Chapter 1: A Deal with the Devil
Chapter Text
There once was a sailor, they say, many years ago who was hunted by monstrous Mers. The sailor was the best of the best, winds and tides fair wherever he roamed. So fortunate was he that it was whispered among the wise-folk that the Mer were ordered by the Devil to hunt the sailor, to even his luck.
Despite the dark shadow dogging every high tide, the sailor grew modestly wealthy; earning first bronze, then silver, but he humbly refused to rise higher, despite the fact he could have easily earned more. Instead, he took his earnings and bought an early retirement.
On land as on sea, he prospered. Spending his good earnings on himself, as was proper, and on his home, which was generous and good of him. All who knew him saw an improvement in their home, and all could foresee a great life for him!
And yet, and yet! The monstrous Mers were not deterred. In the bay near his home they skulked and watched and waited, for the Mer are old and as patient as the tides that erode away the rocks.
On a fine, fisherman’s haul, at last the good sailor ran out of luck. For the former-sailor did not dare touch the sea, but the Mers had ways to reach him. From below dark hands and sharp teeth stole the sailor from the shore in a rush of blood and unnatural tides! The water rushed up the beach like it was possessed! Down, down to the bed of the sea the man was dragged, and torn apart by a hundred teeth!
But while the Monsters caught their victim, don’t believe for a moment that the waters by that bay are any safer. For within the week they revealed their newfound taste … for human flesh …
Cloud hauled up the last of his nets, slugging them into the bottom of his dingy with sharp breaths and grunts. The fish wriggled and flopped in hempen binds while Cloud finally sunk into his seat. With ease he angled the light one-man vessel back to bay shores and pulled at the oars to make a good pace back.
Despite the heavy load, the vessel glided seamlessly over the shallow rocks that led to the narrow nook where the fish gathered to breed, so Cloud had no trouble easing himself back to the open waters of the bay; and no trouble crossing the open, barren water where only the slyest fish remained; unlike the trove he’d found and plundered!
Yet he did not pause to gloat. Not here.
“By heaven, boy, what are you doing?!”
Cloud looked over his shoulder.
Up along the cliffs, running toward the cove’s beach were all three remaining residents of the Inn. Bellowing like a bull was Cid, red faced and furious, and behind him ran both Tifa and Aerith who were paled faced by contrast and each slightly unkempt from their running as they held up their skirts.
Cloud turned back to the oars, pulling until his arms ached and then the boat brushed up against the sand. Upon the beach, he jumped from his seat and pulled his dingy high up from the edge of the water. Three pairs of hands grasp around his, tugging the boat up until it rests far beyond all possible reaches of high tide, then further. Further!
Only then did all four dare to stop and catch their breaths.
Tifa pulled Cloud into a hug, her harsh breathing loud in Cloud’s ear. Aerith still clutched the longboat with white knuckles. After a moment, Cloud looked out to sea: the bay was silent and still, and the sight blessed him with the permission to breathe also … His plan had worked.
The old man’s lungs recovered much slower, tarred thick from his pipe, but he still huffed and puffed enough to shake off Tifa’s relieved embrace and arrest Cloud by the shoulders: “Are you out of your fucking head, lad!? What in blazes do you think you were doing!?”
“I was fishing and-”
“I can bloody see that! You fool! You have a death wish? Out there in a fucking dingy!?” For a long minute Cid was too blustered to spit out more than insults. Cloud took his chance to duck out of the man’s grip.
Cid glared; “Better men than you or I have gambled with the sea and its creatures and lost everything down to his bones- are you listening boy?” Cloud ignored the tirade that just kept coming. With unskilled hands he slipped each fish into a wicker basket and began to fold up the nets.
After several long moments that betrayed how uncertain his friends felt about the situation, Aerith and Tifa finally brought themselves to roll up their sleeves and help. Aerith pulled a pocket knife out and passed it to Tifa, who was the better cook of the two. Tifa cleaned up the guts and folded nets as Cloud did.
Slowly the pair began to marvel at the size of the haul.
“..driven the fish out of our waters and turned this town into a hamlet barely worth its salt; the Mers will eat us in place of fish, and no man in their right mind heads out there now, and so we’ve got no fishermen in a fishing village! ”
“Well Cid,” Tifa objected, “The fish are here now, so let’s do what we can not to waste them. Good fortune this is, for a change.” Her hands already grew pink with blood as she gutted them for later, her hands steady and sure.
Cloud nodded, “Biggest haul you’ve seen all year and you’d rather yell at me?”
“Only haul more like,” Aerith muttered to Tifa, who humed in agreement; Cloud realised they were not entirely pleased with him either. However they were pragmatic enough to make use of the spoils of his recklessness.
Cloud gave them both a sheepish smile, earning an eye roll and a fond shake of the head in turn.
Cid pointed a finger at Cloud, “Oi, those devils are powerful enough to tear down a Galleon, nevermind this old creaker,” Cid kicked it. Cloud scowled at him, surreptitiously checking for damage. “Nothing would have saved you had they spotted you, Cloud. You’d have been another cautionary tale in this cursed place, as if we need more dead to tell us to stay up on land and out the sea,” he landed another kick.
“Hey leave off!” Cloud protested. “I’ve watched the bay, the Mers are hardly active, and no one in all the stories has seen one during the early morning, Cid.” He’d spent observing and listening and plotting. He’d gone to every Elder and old Sailor left in the town and mapped where all Mers had ever been seen, and because of that, unique to him, he had a path through to the hidden trove of fish beyond all reaches of nets and Mer.
The last thriving spot in a cove picked dry by sea and land folk alike; and it belonged to him. “The route is as safe as can possibly be, and no Mer could swim after me; it’s too shallow, Cid. I’m not an idiot.”
He earned a slap to the back of his head for his troubles.
“Need I remind you, all three of yers, that them Mers killed your parents? Your pap was the most skilled fisherman of the lot, boy, and had faced the devils before; and yet he didn’t hardly live up to his name that day did he!”
Cloud went still.
Tifa stiffened and she piped up with a cocky bravery only these harsh times could bring from her, “It ain’t proper to bring up the dead, Cid, didn’t think you’d be so unfeeling in your old age.”
Aerith looked about ready to add her opinion when the old man grunted, “I’m older and uglier than all three of you, and I’ve seen enough to know when to make a point with a deadman or something more devilish. If I need to force your folks to roll in their watery graves to keep their youngsters from meeting the same fate, then so be it.”
Cloud huffed, “Got the ugly part right,” he sniped right back; sour that Cid stood beside barrels worth of fish, enough to smoke and cook and salt for a month; and the old landlord felt the need to throw the murder of all their parents into their faces.
“Don’t kick off now, lad. All thought they were safe enough, working above the high tide when the devils rushed the water in and left it red-”
“Oh enough! Save us time if you won’t save your breath,” Aerith put another knife into Cid’s hands and a fish. Cloud realised with a start it was his own, when had she pulled it out of his boot?
Aerith folded her arms, “What’s done has been done, Cid. Now we have a boatload of fish to sort, and it’ll take all morning with three hands working; better to join us so we can get back to the inn and get on with the daily grind all the sooner.”
Having successfully cut the argument off Aerith bundled up her skirts and jumped into the boat to fill yet another basket, uncaring if she would later stink. Cloud liked that about his girls, they never flinched at working as hard and dirty as the men of the village. Cid himself had only ever complained at Cloud for lacking the sense they had in spades. He did so again now while gutting fish, continually groaning at Cloud’s recklessness under his breath.
Cloud moved to stand by someone else. Tifa covered his hand with her own as he worked beside her. “Cid was very worried about you,” she whispered.
“I know.”
She was quiet for a while. “You’ll be doing this again won’t you.”
It wasn’t a question.
Her hand went white on the knife. “Be careful. Cid’s full of it, but he has his reasons.”
Cloud recalled the dimmest memory of screaming villagers being swept out to sea.
“I know.”
The disbelief at the second haul from the sparse square that was a market was just as potent as the first time.
Once the space had been twice as full with stalls, but now only a few farmers traded back and forth with each other, and sometimes a craftsman would stop by with tools or artisan goods. Not like it was before, with many fisherman bartering and hollering to the pervasive stink of fish.
Aerith, the better salesman out of all four of the Innkeeps, instructed Cloud on how to set up the smoked and salted goods. She pulled out the old table, and flung out a sheet to cover the grime and dust. Baskets and barrels were placed evenly along it within her line of sight. Cloud followed her orders silently, and no matter where he looked he saw the staring.
Strongest stares of all came from the Elders.
The oldest blood did not take their eyes off of Cloud nor his fish the whole time he was visible to them. They exchanged soft words with each other, and glanced between their fellows with pinched expressions.
Cloud didn’t look at them if he could help it.
There hadn’t been a fishing stall for fifteen years, Cloud vaguely remembered the stalls and definitely recalled the smell, but they had quickly died out with the shortage of fish in the bay and rising dangers from the Mers. Still, most remembered what a fish was worth. Buyers and neighbours looked suspicious and amazed while they bartered, but they still spent their coin. Even the Elders spent their coin and time at this stall like they would at any other, only sometimes getting a disbelieving look in their eyes at the sight of the fish that had once been their village backbone once again in their beloved market square …
Cloud backed away when he was finished, Aerith taking over the tiny business like she was born to do it. She’d run the Inn one day, if there was enough business left to keep it afloat. All people liked an ale or a cider, free watery grog for locals, and Cid kept the stronger stuff locked up for those who could pay for it- but if there was nothing worth staying for, if this village dried up like the source of fish, then they’d move away and no one would be left to fill the Inn’s seats and pockets.
Cloud hoped this fishing was the start of the change that would let Aerith have the Inn as her own one day.
That’s all he wanted really.
To the rest of the village too, but first in his mind were those he’d grown up with, and those who had raised him after his Father was killed and his Mother passed.
The staring was becoming a bit much. So Cloud excused himself from the stall and the market, and went to walk the cliffsides back home …
Below the sea rolled lazily in the bay, the cove with its beach an empty strip of sand with only Cloud’s small boat tied high above the waterline. One or two houses by the sea were left in ruin, long abandoned since the day the Mers caused the tides to rush in …
Cloud’s feet slowed. He’d been so little at the time, but he felt he could remember it. The village Elders had repeated the story often enough for him to be as wary of the water as any other whilst growing up.
The villagers had been working high above the high tide waterline, and it was low tide when it happened. Cloud remembered looking for his Father, grinning up at him while he carried something back to his Mother, his stumbling five-year-old footsteps taking him up to safety unknowingly.
The low waters hadn’t rumbled, though the Elders claimed they did. Cloud remembered an odd humming. Then the screaming began.
He remembered turning around. He recalled how the water stormed up the beach like crazed horses, rushing, crashing, sweeping up the shore and snatching up anyone it could reach. It was like the sea itself was a hungry monster with a gaping maw. Dozens were caught in the waves, claim the Elders, and Cloud was not old enough to be sure if they were underestimating or embellishing that number. For all he remembered was the screaming, and the shadowy hands that reached through the water for their victims, he saw his Father, and then the red …
His Mother’s arms turned him away too late, he remembered the blood.
It felt like it lasted hours, but the rush and retreat of water was over in mere seconds. After, his Father was gone.
Cloud turned away from the sea, away from the memories.
It wasn’t just his Father. Aerith’s parents, Tifa’s, Cid’s wife, and many more were lost that day into the claws of the Mers. Then the village lost more to shock in the following weeks, then to hunger as the village struggled to feed itself now the sea was too dangerous. Cloud lost his Mother to the first, she never regained her usual disposition after that day.
Cid, having known their parents, took in Cloud, Cloud’s Mother, Aerith, and Tifa out of the gruff kindness of his heart and had them run the inn with him. The Inn, The Highwind, stood overlooking the bay up on the cliffsides, and Cloud could smell the faint stench of fish as well as the more pleasant aroma of Tifa’s cooking as he neared it.
Home.
One he’d need to support or lose for good.
The days had lengthened …
Cloud rose earlier and earlier for his catch, having found a comfortable rhythm in his new days as the sole fisherman of the bay. Every few days he’d go fish, rise early and try to beat the warmth of the day that would only steadily grow warmer as spring rose into radiant summer. On his off days he’d see to the Inn as usual, doing his chores, and maybe, sometimes, sneaking an extra hour in bed before Cid realised he was slacking off.
Cid hadn’t exactly come around to Cloud’s new routine. Memorising his insults was a lot easier when you heard them close to daily.
Cloud felt a little bad sometimes when he spotted Cid watching from the top of the cliffside on occasion, spear in hand as if he could help from so far away. As if such a peasant tool would help against the monstrous Mer of the deep.
The old man worried in his own way. Cared gruffly. Cloud honestly hoped that he wasn’t sending Cid to an early grave with the added stress. Despite his successes, and Aerith turning in a modest profit, the fears of the village meant that Cloud still worked alone. All around him, slowly, little trades began to turn again, the town coming back to life. Elders and villagers alike mumbled suspiciously as Cloud returned with his silver finned bounty, they still took what he offered and everyone prayed it would last at least a while longer; They’d watched their people starve enough.
In the hidden spot Cloud pulled net after net up into the boat, the bounty bearing much riches today as the fish enjoyed the warming seasons.
Cloud grunted and was forced to stand as his dingy wobbled unsteadily with its growing load. He used one oar for balance and one for slow steering as he was forced to stop gathering or risk scraping his village’s only sea-worthy-vessel upon the rocks of the narrow nook that connected this sanctuary to the bay.
Even minor damage he could not afford to repair, even with the increased trade.
Was there anyone left who remembered how to repair a boat? He doubted it.
Cloud bit his lip, resolving to travel a little slower today if it meant avoiding scrapes, not willing to part with a single fish if he could help it- though a lightened load would have made his return journey a breeze.
He made decent progress to the halfway point, focusing eyes and efforts on the next few feet ahead of him, watching the rocks, squinting as the light of the day reflected off of the water and the scales.
The slight refraction of the light drew Cloud’s eye like a moth to the flame, glittering over an enormous stretch of silver and flashes of gold.
A gasp escaped Cloud’s throat, and ice spread through his body that the morning sun could do nothing to ease.
Cloud froze.
The scales rose from the water, the tail curling lazily in the sun and rippling with muscle as each slow coil and sway betrayed the immense strength within. The sunlight caught on the shiny scales, slightly refracting back in a beauty rarely seen on anything but the purest of cut ice, each scale perfectly slotted together in a never ending armoured pattern that looked smooth as silk yet tough as metal.
On each side were fins, triangular like a shark’s, and softly patterned with waves of grey. Those stripes travelled down the back of the tail to a large fin like that of a great white’s, frilled slightly along the ends. Also, the stripes travelled upward, along scales then … skin.
Splaying at the edge of the shallows, watching him with dark, dark eyes … a Mer.
“Hmm, greetings sailor. How odd to see a two-leg out in this bay,” pearly teeth peeked out as it spoke and smiled.
Cloud stumbled back sharply, holding up the oar as if it were a weapon and nearly overbalancing his precarious position.
Laughter reached his ears as he pictured what might happen should he fall in.
“Careful, the rocks are sharp.” It spoke well, but there was no concern despite its cautionary words. It sounded … amused. Fixated.
Checking his pockets, Cloud only found the dulling flint knife he used to cut the fraying edges of his nets. The tail of the creature slapped the water, idly as Cloud floundered. Or perhaps to regain his attention?
Swallowing, Cloud looked back at the creature, and swallowed again to try and form words; it lay across his only exit. The bulk of the tail was in constant motion, glittering with scales and gold, and the head and torso rested calm; dark hair slick against strong shoulders and arms, long enough to be called shoulder length or more. Down each arm all the way to the claws on each finger were the same stripes that flowed over the tail.
But it was the face that threw Cloud the most. It might have been a handsome face, but every feature was just a little too animalistic. The dark eyes watched unwaveringly, a rim of silver around large pupils even in the harsh light of day, and the ears pointed at the tops where they poked through wet hair.
The smile may have been the worst thing, it spoke of mysterious intentions and dark enjoyment at seeing Cloud scared.
“What do you want?” Cloud forced out after several tries, each made the Mer smile wider.
The creature rolled its shoulders, “What do I want? Nothing much,” it answered, voice deep and rumbling, like it came from deeper in its chest than a man was meant to pitch his voice. “I want to talk with you, if you have the time?”
Its continuous smile was too much. It knew it lay across the only escape.
As did Cloud. “I … I have a bit of time. But make it quick, I have to return to the shore.”
The Mer cocked an eyebrow, “What could have you in such a hurry?”
“I’ve got fish to gut and sell.”
“Hm, that you have,” the Mer observed, eyes finally leaving Cloud to flick across his catch, “Although, you will not be moving in any such hurry with a catch that size,” it pointed out. “It will be a slow trip back … maybe I could help with that?”
Cloud clutched at his oar again. “What do you want?”
“Just to chat, two-leg, be at ease.” Clawed hands idly pulled its hair from where it had stuck uncomfortably to its shoulders, taking a luxurious approach to fixing its appearance, “I think that this catch of yours is very large, almost too large for your boat.”
“It is needed for my village,” Cloud disputed.
“Yes, of course,” came the smooth agreement, making Cloud’s skin shiver. Cloud pointed the oar at the Mer, the Mer didn’t react in the slightest.
“I’ve seen you these last tides. You in your fine vessel, pulling up fish from a place my clan cannot reach, how clever of you to have found this place.” It coiled its tail again, this time the tip of the large fin brushed against Cloud’s hull, and a dark tongue escaped momentarily to lick at pink lips.
Cloud paled slightly.
“You know well how precious they are, I can see that. I see how you guard them from me now,” a clawed fingertip tapped the end of the oar. “It must be scary for you, to sail over these empty waters? I thought to myself; I could help with that, and you are such a smart one. Maybe we can work out a little deal, you and I?”
That had Cloud sitting up a bit straighter, wary of every move the Mer made. “What would this deal be?” Cloud finally inquired, half an eye upon the Mer’s swaying tail; it was adorned with gold.
“I can see you long for the shoreline even now,” the voice brought Cloud out his staring and back to dark, cunning eyes, “So I will be brief.” The Mer leaned up on the side of the vessel, when had it moved so close? Each arm rested on the stern, letting the creature rest its head upon its arms and gaze uninterrupted upon Cloud and his catch. “Shall we say,” a clawed finger ran over the nearest finned prize, but did not pick up the fish. “Two thirds of the fish caught one day every two weeks, and I will guarantee safe passage from my clan on all days you sail.”
It wanted food? Cloud scowled a little, “Why should I agree to this when your kind drove the fish away in the first place?”
“The same can be said for your kind too, two-leg. Many mouths to feed in this place, land and sea.”
Cloud wished he could argue. “And … if I refuse?”
The creature just smiled.
It was answer enough.
Silently, Cloud cursed. The Mer had blocked Cloud’s only escape, and it was now close enough to climb into his dingy if it had a mind to! The only way out was this ‘deal’ it proposed.
Fish in exchange for his safe passage.
Cloud looked longingly at the shoreline, the cliffs, and where the Inn would come into view on approach. He thought of his family, the fearful village just starting to come back from the brink … the hungry looks that were easing with every haul.
The weight settled on him more firmly: I cannot be eaten here.
He sighed. “Very well, you have a deal.”
That smile came again, “Deal. Row to the rock in the centre of the bay and throw out what is owed, and not a stroke further out to sea, a pleasure doing business with you.” The Mer leaned backward and vanished with a flick of its strong tail into the depths of the water, over the lip of the shallows and down.
But not gone.
Cloud would bet that the creature was lurking just out of sight; expecting its share, waiting, watching …
His stomach threatened to spill. Out came a shuddering breath. He breathed some more.
To avoid stalling any longer, Cloud got to his feet and pushed with his oars out of the nook of relative safety.
Out into the vulnerable blue the old creaker glided, and once clear of rocks Cloud set a new course to the rocky island in the centre of the bay. It was a barren rock with a patch of sand at the edges. It wasn’t very tall, but the tide never swallowed the rock, so Cloud felt confident enough to pull up alongside it without a mooring. He locked the oars and started to dump his precious fish out. They floated listlessly, then as his back was turned fetching the next lot they were gone. Without a sound or ripple.
Cloud gripped the sides for strength.
Two thirds tossed overboard and picked off, and Cloud put his oars back to the water and retreated as fast as humanly possible, glimpsing a clawed hand drag the last fish below out of the corner of his eye …
In the dim light of the Inn Cloud found the Elders as they crowded over weak ales, and told the whole story of his ordeal in a hushed voice. Wise faces exchanged glances and grim words were passed two and fro until one of the oldest of the lot patted Cloud on the back, telling him he was thankful Cloud had come back at all.
None mentioned how Cloud shook and downed his own drinks like he was about to set alight. Not one commented on the relief on his face as he was believed without question.
Cloud asked what he should do, and their corner went silent with shared looks of grim disposition.
To Cloud’s dismay, but not to his surprise, they told him that the deal had been struck, and it must be upheld. There was nothing to be done.
Cloud nearly fainted at the thought of being at the mercy of that monster again.
Two Elders brought him closer, and passed him stronger ale to cure his bloodless face. They did not offer reassurances, but instead gave him a crumb of hope: Honest Mer were, but always untrustworthy.
They kept to their word, and could not tell falsehoods, but all Mer were masters at saying one thing and meaning another; they could word a promise in such a way that would allow them to do much damage though the vow appears safe as houses, and were viciously possessive on what they saw was owed to them.
As long as Cloud proved useful to them and provided what was owed, he would be safe.
It was something.
With the world back in colour, he listened more throughout the night as they whispered their knowledge on the Mer, offering all they thought may serve to save him one day: Mers may look partly human, but under that guise is a monster and humans were not kin to them. Cloud was never to let one close enough to touch him, and should always stick to higher ground. To avoid a Mer’s temptations, even if they cannot lie, he should not speak with them, nor listen to them talk, and never listen to them sing.
But most importantly: Never let down your end of your deal if you wish to live as a free man. For Mer had stalked men and women across Oceans for their dues, and never gave up.
Cloud drank some more.
Everyone agreed to keep his deal a secret for the village’s peace of mind. On the selected day where the Mers were owed their share of fish they’d ban all work close to the bay, just to be safe.
Cloud nodded along, thinking on what he’d learnt, and whispering to himself the terms of his deal …
Heat pounded through his shirt as Cloud sat in his boat, eyeing the nets below him and stalling for time. Two weeks since the last, and he didn’t doubt for a moment that the Mer would once again bar his way.
The anticipation made him sloppy.
Especially with what he had planned when he finally did see the Mer.
‘Mers always keep to their word, they cannot lie, but what they say can mean many things; they do not break their deals.’ Cloud reminded himself as he turned the vessel about to row toward the narrow nook.
‘Do not let one close enough to touch, do not listen to them sing, do not believe they are human.’
As he predicted, the Mer’s head and shoulders floated at the edge of the shallow zone. “Well well, I am pleased to say I still know a man of his word when I see one.”
Cloud pulled to a stop and put up his chin to make him feel braver, “A deal is a deal.” He had come prepared this time with baskets, three of them. Two were to be dumped back for the Mer to pick off, the last for himself. “Will you be accompanying me to the rock? The fish are in baskets today.”
“Baskets,” the Mer repeated. Cloud watched the silvery eyes assess the loads, “All evenly packed I trust.”
“Yes, you may check them if you wish it; but only at the rock,” Cloud answered. “I won’t risk damaging the baskets in these shallows.”
A thoughtful look crossed the Mer’s face, but not once the suspicion Cloud had braced himself for. “Such a clever two-leg surely would not break his word so soon?” Clawed fingers tapped its lip … the lips curled into a smile. “No, he wouldn’t,” it decided after a stilling moment. “I will meet you there, on the far side, do not delay.”
White water rushed and then the creature was gone. The little wave it caused rocked the front of the old creaker. Cloud wondered if the tail and all stripy limbs were pure muscle, it moved with such speed.
He wasn’t about to find out; he took up his oars.
Rowing over to the rock was as easy as before, but seemed to take forever. Why was it so calm? It wasn’t acting as he’d imagined, he’d been prepared for suspicion, or frustration, or something more violent; but instead he felt like he was being toyed with, even though he had what the Mer wanted. Thoroughly out of control, Cloud had no choice but to row on. Rounding to the far side revealed a small shoreline that the sea had worn into the rock. Like a tiny bay of its own.
The Mer was in the shallows, and from this new angle Cloud could see far more of it than before. The long tail, sharklike in resemblance, caught his eye as it lazily swayed too and fro, and positively dripped with adornment! Gold looped all along the tail, riches to rival the king of Spain! Necklaces, bracelets, rings and ear hoops glittered across the tail and body. The gradual easing of scales to skin was easier to see too, and it seemed even the skin glittered in little scaly places. Tanned best described the tone of humanish skin. Although the creature was unclothed it didn’t seem undressed with the trove of gold that covered it.
It resembled a male. Strong broad shoulders, masculine chest, flat stomach that displayed the indentations of ribs here and there, and the sharp crest of shoulder blades.
The face was also manly; defined jawline and nose, lips a little thinner than normal, and clean shaven (it looked hairless all over now he thought about it). The thing that was off putting was the eyes, how dark and full they appeared. Maybe they could be described as beautiful, but they held only animalistic emotion; too alien to read.
For as lazy as it looked, Cloud was well aware of how fast it could strike, and the tales of its strength.
‘It may look human, in part, but it is not.’
Cloud pulled the old creaker up onto the shallow sand, beaching her gently, and then took a deep breath and did the second most foolish thing he’d do this day: he got out of the boat.
Under each arm was the fishbaskets he owed. He turned to the Mer and placed down the first basket within arms reach. The Mer took it surprisingly delicately, taking its time to not cause damage to Cloud’s weaving - had it taken Cloud’s earlier words to heart?
The wicker lid opened, plump fish piled up to the rim, and there was an instant change in the Mer as soon as it laid eyes upon the loot.
A growl rose up from its chest.
One plump fish, snatched in a flash, nearly vanished before Cloud’s eyes in a fit of carnage. Sharp teeth tore into the flesh and crunched the delicate bones, a soft snarling leaving the Mer’s lips as blood leaked from its hands and mouth. A full grown bass scarfed down in seconds!
Cloud backed away from the water.
The rock face pressed against Cloud’s back, the second basket in his arms easily seen but out of reach. The Mer turned to him, and Cloud flinched.
As sudden as it came on, the Mer was calm again, licking its lips with a black tongue; it’s lazy demeanour back as if it had never happened, save for the blood upon its chin.It held out its hand.
Cloud, however, couldn’t move.
The Mer seemed to realise why and laughed, lowering its body as much as it could and giving Cloud a somewhat coy look through its damp hair. “You need not be scared. These lean times have been harsh on us all, I couldn’t bear the hunger pangs any longer.” It took another fish and ate it slowly, consuming mouthfuls as a man bites and chews a particularly good sandwich.
The explanation … helped … a little. So long as he wasn’t on the menu.
Cloud sank uneasily into a sitting position, legs shaking still. “I .. I have some questions.”
“Do you now?” the Mer kept eating, disinterested.
“I-I’ve never seen a Mer this close before,” Cloud defensively followed up. “Can’t blame me for being curious.”
The Mer in question laughed. “Mer? Is that what you call us?” it sounded amused, and idly repeated the name a few more times, testing it out. “Interesting choice.” It lazily rolled onto its side and propped up its head.
“It’s what the Elders and all the stories call your kind.”
“Hm. And these Elders are experts on us Naiads, hmm?”
“Naiads?” Cloud repeated the unfamiliar word.
The Mer (The Naiad?) picked out a bone from its teeth, the teeth narrower and pointer than a man’s. “Such experts they are,” it mocked dispassionately, bored, “To speak of mine people and yet not even know our name.”
Cloud let out a slightly hysterical laugh, “People? How are you people? You eat people!”
The Mer raised an eyebrow, “How are you people? You Men who hunt my kin for our skin and bones.” It’s grin held no outrange despite the accusing words. “It is all the same, Two-leg. It is all relative.”
Cloud glared, ‘Not my people, my village never caught a Mer. If they had there would be stories of it.’ Also, it did not rebuke the claim that it was a maneater. Cloud quickly chose to shut down that line of thought before he could imagine those teeth tearing through flesh.
“So … where did you learn to speak?”
The tail of the Mer swayed and an expression of nostalgia painted the Mer’s face, “I used to follow the great fleets across the seas, swam with them to tumultuous seas and back again to shores known and unknown. I heard the sailors grunt and growl and mewl, and learnt what each meant over the decades. I speak many languages, I’ve forgotten many more.”
Cloud got the impression he was being mocked. But it had answered him, and painted an intriguing picture. “You don’t look that old,” he said without thinking; It was not wrinkled or stooped with years, it seemed lively like the youths of his village and sharp like a newly crafted knife. Its colours were vibrant, and though its form was somewhat emaciated Cloud could not place the Mer as much older than himself.
The Mer chuckled, “Such flattery. My kin live long, your kind seem so fleeting to us, you are there and gone before we think to close our eyes and blink. But I see your bravery has returned. Now give me what I’m owed, your deal for today is not yet complete and my clan are starving.”
Cloud returned to his senses a little, wondering how he had gotten so comfortable. Foolish! Cloud got to his feet again. But this time he squared his shoulders, “Not yet, this deal isn’t good enough, for the both of us.” He put on a smile he hoped would mask his urge to run. “Yes, this is yours, and no matter what, it will be in your hands this day: but I wanted to speak first, and for you to listen.”
Half expecting just to be killed, it didn’t make Cloud feel better when the Mer merely rested its head in its hand and fixed its eyes upon him as if seeing him in a new light. “This should be interesting …” it purred, eyeing Cloud like he was someone’s pet performing a particularly amusing trick.
Seeing as he wasn’t immediately being devoured, Cloud continued. He recalled what had been said and repeated it: “I give you two thirds of my catch every two weeks, and I’m safe in this bay from your kind when I fish, that was the terms.”
“Well remembered,” The Mer praised, eyes not moving from him even to blink.
“Well, by that logic the bay is still a danger to everyone else, and me on days I do not go to sea, or should I go to sea for another reason: that isn’t good enough for me,” Cloud fought to remain steady as the ground beneath his feet swayed and his vision tunnelled.
The only assurance he had was the tail that swayed at ease.
He had to press on.
“And! If I were to catch nothing then you’d be owed nothing: So why don’t we change those terms?” he ploughed on, ignoring how easily a Mer could decide to take its pound of flesh as payment in kind, praying that his bold words would intrigue it.
The Mer who appeared to not have moved an inch the whole time Cloud spoke. The Mer’s eyes were impossible to read. As deep and dark as the sea. The expression held a mouth tilted upward, but Cloud could not tell if it was truly pleased, happy or entertained.
“Half my catch, or at least one full basket, once a week. In exchange you will not only let the bay be safe for me on fishing days, but all days and for all humans.”
The Mer was silent for a moment. “You demand much, and wish a lot of restrictions upon mine-clan. What if I like the terms as is?”
Cloud shrugged, “Then you get this second basket of fish, as promised. But,” boldly he added, “Then I’ll use this last remaining day of protection, that I am owed as my fishing day, to head back to the land, then I’ll go inland and never see shore again; you’ll have two-thirds of nothing until I die.”
He expected anger.
He had been braced for anger.
The Mer … laughed!
Head thrown back, deep bellied, body curling laughter.
It was an inhuman tone of laugh, but Cloud’s stomach flipped, an elated feeling pierced through him with each hiss and howl of uncontained amusement; like it was contagious.
The laughter slowed, Cloud’s odd elation ebbed, and words returned to the Mer; “Ho-how clever you are, standing on your high ground, using our contract to your advantage, and demanding more from me while I cannot refuse! You’d make a fine Naiad with such savvy in your blood,” it praised through gasping breaths, appearing energised at being outplayed.
Cloud wished he could take another several steps back.
The Mer quietened itself slowly, still chuckling now and then. "Hmm, I trust that limit goes both ways? No Naiads to be seen by day, and no Two-legs seen in our waters come sundown; whomever’s law stands with the time of day it is?"
Cloud took a moment to listen to what the Mer really meant. He turned the words over, but they seemed fair. They seemed transparent. No doubt there was something he could not see, but Cloud was getting what he wanted. Plus who would be so stupid as to swim or sail by night? So … so what if the Mer could do a bit more than he expected when his village would be safe in their beds?
"Yes, that is how it will be. On fishing days I will bring you your fish here to this rock, so there’s no need for you to stalk me across the bay.”
It chuckled at that but didn’t interrupt.
Cloud stiffened, but he chose to ignore its not-confession, "Other than this meeting, I don’t want to see your kind during the daylight hours. If the promise is broken, M-Naiad or Men, all deals are off. Agreed?"
The Mer’s eyes went slitted as it smiled, “More fish and less contact with the Two-legs? I believe you have yourself a deal, dear fisherman.”
“It’s Cloud.”
Both were taken aback at this.
Cloud cursed himself softly, but it was too late. He’d given his name.
Awkwardly clearing his throat he repeated, “My name is Cloud, we should use names when we’re making a deal this big, right?”
The Mer seemed to settle back into itself. “Hm. I suppose that makes sense,” it’s tailfins swished gently. “I am Squall.”
After repeating that name, and marvelling that it had a name, Cloud knelt by the shore and held out a hand. “It’s a deal.”
“It’s a deal,” Squall repeated.
The Mer’s- Squall’s hand rested in his own.
Mers ran cooler than humans as he suspected, but not by much. The palm felt a little rougher than anticipated, like shark skin maybe? But it- he? - gripped Cloud’s palm without hurting him, shook as a man would, and let go in a way that did not put Cloud’s skin close to those black claws.
Deal made. Cloud’s plan had succeded.
Cloud left the basket as he stood up. Somehow not feeling as triumphant as expected; the bay was now safe for everyone, no one needed to be nervous near the water by day. So much could be salvaged and recovered- they could rebuild the dock! And yet, the ease at which Squall accepted had off balanced Cloud so much; in fact all his interactions had been unbalancing, like trying to predict a rare wild animal’s mood, it was all too doubtful for comfort.
He watched silently as Squall took both baskets and swam away, returning only a minute later, as Cloud was about to push off from the little shore, to return them.
“Here, dear Cloud,” he seemed to enjoy using his name. “It wouldn’t do for you to be without them. Will it be a week today until our next exchange?” he asked, surprisingly aiding Cloud’s boat off the shallow sand with a powerful tug of his arms.
The old creaker floated freely and Cloud was forced to belatedly brace himself on the boat’s sides, “Ah! Yes; yes one week from today, though I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if it was sooner,” he added warily, thinking of the other Mers who were definitely tearing through the fish below them right now, as Squall had.
He forced himself to remember that he’d made the bay safe for humans, but it still unnerved him to know just how fast a person could be reduced to bare bones in their grasp.
“So long as we get what we are owed when it is promised, we can make use of our patience,” Squall … promised? The Mer steered the front of the boat around again, pushing with his shoulder and strong pushes of his/its tail from beneath the surface. Squall appeared on the other side of Cloud’s boat with a content smile. “Until then, dear Cloud.”
“Until then,” was Cloud’s even response. He took the oars and moved away from the spot, not seeing or hearing when Squall dived down to join his brethren.
The Elders first response was to slap Cloud behind his head. So was the second, third and fourth, in truth. The sixth was to call him foolish then demand a full account of his actions, and all promises word for word.
“They could have torn you to pieces for your arrogance, challenging a deal like that to their face!”
Finally, after long hours interrogating and reviewing Cloud’s day, the mood shifted. Soon there was hope. Hope enough to engage in tentative discussions on what work and buildings could be revisited during the now-safe days. The dock? What about building boats again? Maybe they could dare to envision a mill? Tentative plans turned over the coals of hope until they settled into shape.
Cloud, for his part, let the smarting fade, answered every question with all his patience; thankful only that he’d no longer need to worry over one of his neighbours falling into the sea and vanishing forever. Even if only the bold or stupid went down to the waters anyway, it was worth it.
It had to be worth it.
Chapter 2: Sympathy for the Devil
Notes:
Sorry for a bit of confusion: this chapter 2 is just me restructuring things. I've split chapter 1 into halves, this is the second half. To make up for this messing about chapter 3 will very shortly be posted. Sorry for any confusion.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Mayhaps it was a foolish wish to hope to remain undisturbed when there was a curious Mer about the rock of their meetings. With the Elders beginning their plans and encouraging more life to return to the beaches it was obvious that Cloud had played a part in their change of heart, and Tifa and Aerith were curious. Cid was displeased.
Cloud was under oath with the Elders to not speak of what he had done, to not inspire others to be as foolish and unlucky, and so dodging the questions and stares of his friends was his only remaining option. It became tiresome.
So, he took advantage of his boon for the first time and rowed out to the rock on the bay without fishing, for a bit of peace.
No one else had a boat, no one else would look for him here, he had made the bay safe.
Lunch in hand, he had beached his vessel and gone up the higher levels of the rocky outcrop, out of reach of the sea to cook a fish of his own. Another of his boons.
From this vantage point he felt on top of the world. Safe, fed, with the endless blue horizon as his view out of the bay …
“Hail, dear Cloud.”
Cloud jumped, and nearly sent his cooking lunch flying.
As he scrambled he caught sight of the Mer that spoke. Squall swam below, looking up at him with an easy smile, cutting elegantly through the water, motions as smooth as silk, the water parting for him as he circled.
Cloud frowned at him, “It is not fishing day, and it is not night; you should not be in the bay.”
“I am not.”
Cloud inhaled, ready to scold the Mer, but the Mer nodded at each headland that marked the mouth of the bay, very obviously behind this rock from both lines of sight. “This rock is outside of the bay.”
Cloud paled.
“Rest assured, my clan are uninterested in this place, and you are our dear fisherman, you have nothing to fear from us,” Squall seemed to have read his reaction, his voice deliberately slow and soothing.
“So long as you get what is owed?” Cloud guessed.
Squall just smiled, pulled himself up onto a lower rock, and began to sun himself with his tail submerged to keep cool. “You continue to be as smart as I say,” he sighed below Cloud’s little camp, and for all appearances seemed to just … fall asleep.
Cloud was not sure what to make of the company. It was not like he could ban the Mer from all the waters could he? He thought of this place as still within the realms of village reach, true it was beyond the cliff edges … It was the barest technicality, but Cloud decided not to push it. It was not like anyone would be out here today, no one else had a boat, and the Elders had warned all the village about this rock for years, calling it the Mer’s meeting place to frighten all into giving it a wide berth. It would be unlikely for anyone to end up here by accident, the Elders were strict on the boundaries, and even with safety guaranteed until sundown they evacuated the beaches an hour before, just in case.
Deciding to do what he came here for, Cloud went back to cooking his meal.
As time passed, he grew curious again. “I have to wonder, Squall, why did you not just take all my fish when you first saw me? Why make a deal instead of attacking my boat?”
Squall answered sleepily, “It did cross our minds. But to steal once would have fed me and mine once. Next time, the fish would have been guarded; if you were brave enough to dare try fishing again!” A shake of the head, “It was better to have made our deal; to have an endless supply of fish.”
Cloud frowned a little at Squall’s easy confession at the beginning of his explanation, but the rest made sense to him. “You admit so easily to having thought to kill me?”
Squall peered over his shoulder, looking coyly up at Cloud, “You asked.” and laughed at Cloud’s stunned silence.
“And what if I had refused your deal that day?” he pushed, unable to hold his quiet for long.
The Mer grinned, “You really don’t want to know the answer to that,” his tailfins swirled strong in the water below them, he hummed in pleasure under the hot sun; and Cloud backed down. Why ask more questions that would just unsettle him? Why make that sinister grin remain a moment longer? For as cordial as Squall could be there was always an undertow in him, something that did not see Cloud as human.
‘He’s not human,' Cloud repeated. Yet it was so easy to be swayed by that handsome human-like face. ‘He’s dangerous.’ With that reminder Cloud sets his lunch aside and turns to retrieve his cooked fish.
Crunch.
“What? … Hey!”
On his feet he towered over the Mer that had somehow snuck up a little higher on his rock, close enough to snatch an apple from his pack. Squall just chewed innocently, smiling up at him, “I thank you for this fine meal, I knew you were generous.”
Huffing, Cloud reluctantly sat back down again, pulling himself further away to not lose anymore to thieving fingers. As Squall had predicted, this time he was on guard. “Thief. I don’t owe you half my lunch.”
The Mer chuckled, “An interesting statement, it does not count as part of your ‘catch’?”
“Absolutely not!” Cloud shot back, biting into his own apple, “You don’t catch apples, you harvest them, that was not yours to take.”
Squall liked his thin lips without remorse, “It was so sweet and inviting I could not help myself,” he purred, not blinking once as he held Cloud’s gaze. With another hum he chewed it down to the core, Cloud unable to look away as he devoured it all. Squall was a creature of efficiency; sharp pearly teeth, broad shoulders and chest that narrowed into a waist and bulked again in pure muscle in his tail. But it was also so unusual looking; silver scales, all that gold, not a scrap of clothing upon him … Cloud knew he was staring, eye drifting over his unexpected companion, comparing him to humans he was familiar with, he knew he was staring, but was reluctant to look away.
“However,” the Mer frowned, breaking Cloud from his wandering gaze, and giving the main meal a somewhat dirty look. “I do not understand why you do that to a decent fish.”
Cloud glanced at the fillets, “Do what?”
Leaning on his hand, Squall grumbled lightly, “You use fire on it. You make it smell of smoke and devastation, why?”
The tail behind him slapped the surface of the water. To Cloud’s growing surprise he slowly put together that the irritation was genuine. Squall did not understand and found this concept or his lack of understanding annoying.
‘Huh … I guess he wouldn’t see much cooking out at sea, or on the ships. Ships carry apples,’ Cloud thought, making sense of the knowledge gap.
“Um … it makes it edible for us humans, we can’t eat raw fish; we’ll get sick,” Cloud’s explanation came a little slow, words leaving his lips with an odd hesitance, as he honestly never foresaw explaining the concept of cooking to a Mer. “It tastes better too.”
“That I doubt,” Squall commented at once, reaching out for the fillets.
“Hey! Not yours,” Cloud scolded, pulling them out of reach - well, most of them, a little string of flesh caught on Squall’s claw and it was swiftly brought to a wrinkled nose, then sucked into the Mer’s mouth.
The two stared at each other for a few moments.
Squall pulled a face and spat it back out, letting out a few shrill noises, clicks, and low grumbles that led Cloud to believe he was … cussing.
Cloud nearly laughed, nearly overlooked the thievery of yet another bit of his lunch. He pressed a hand to his mouth to hide his glee, and mocked; “Not to your taste?”
“Not at all!” A blackened tongue shot out in disgust, “Ruined a good fish is all your cooking did.” The Mer rubbed his tongue on his wrist a little, and grumbled; “You humans are so odd.”
That did make Cloud chuckle, he took his own bite at last and settled back to enjoy the sunshine and the sea breeze. “You are the odd one. Rude too, to steal from me then not appreciating my cooking.” Below, Squall pouted. Cloud ate, glad he’d not need to worry about Squall stealing his smoked lunch.
Like a twist in the tides, Squall’s expression melted into one of contentment, “Hmm, well I wouldn’t want my dear Fisherman to think I did not appreciate him; it is thanks to you we are all happily eating again, no matter how poorly you consume them.” Squall pulled himself up to stare into Cloud’s eyes, smiling charmingly; “We are grateful.”
The mood swing was jarring. Not a trace of his earlier irritation remained, and the change from upset to pleased was faster than a flash of lightning, more completely opposite than the day from the night. There was no warning with his mood change either, swayed by seemingly anything.
Cloud stuttered out a small agreement, and Squall settled back onto his rock to soak in more sunlight. ‘He’s not human, he’s dangerous,’ he thought as the Mer idly hummed, content; ‘But not to me … for as long as the deal holds.’
Squall was waiting for him on the day he was owed his baskets of fish. Cloud let Squall take his half and quietly settled down on the shore while Squall returned the emptied baskets to him. Squall humming in a low, continuous way as he ate his share of the Mer’s fish. Cloud got comfortable.
Cloud’s eyes roamed over the Mer, who had decided to eat beside him again. At least it wasn’t his lunch he was stealing this time. Squall ate slower than the first time, and Cloud observed how the edge of his starvation seemed to have faded. All that remained was the usual kind of craving for a good meal.
Still, Cloud could clearly count many ribs and the shoulder blades were still sharp beneath Squall’s skin, the wrists prominent, the tail’s scales wrapped taunt over muscle rather than fat. Now he was taking the time to look, he noticed how gaunt the Mer was, particularly in the face but not just there. He observed Squall’s slightly concave stomach, skin pulled tight over muscles everywhere. Had Squall’s half-starved state made Cloud think he was more angular than he was meant to be? What would he look like when he was a healthy weight again?
Cloud wasn’t sure what he’d look like. Would he appear more terrifying, like their first meeting? Or would those animalistic sharpnesses be smoothed away in exchange for something more appealing?
Even on a Mer Cloud could see the high cheekbones and strong jawline, and he knew those features could be attractive. Not to mention the broad shoulders and even tan, and working muscles rippling on every curve of him, from shoulders to tail … He swallowed.
“You are staring.”
Startled, their eyes met for a few moments, Cloud quietly compared them to liquid silver, and thought they complimented the gold he wore.
Then Cloud hastily looked away, earning laughter, and apologised.
“Sorry? Why? It was no insult to have your attention,” the Mer purred, rolling himself out a little more as if to display what had caught Cloud’s eye; he had to be teasing though his voice never wavered in its smooth delivery.
Cloud angrily blushed, swallowing to wet his strangely dry mouth. “I-I was thinking.”
“Thinking … thinking of me?”
Damn him and his words. “Sort of. I had a question.”
“In exchange for your attention, you may ask,” Squall invited, his tail curling in a lazy fashion. “A young man like yourself should be very curious about the world, and there are many things I can tell. Many stories of times long past.”
Cloud shifted uncomfortably, “It was a question about …” Squall’s humming started up again as Cloud hesitated, the Mer seemingly in a good mood as he plucked the last of the scales of fish from his claws. “Why do you stay here?” Cloud asked, the question falling from his mouth without permission. “You’re clearly starving away to your bones, why stay?”
Snarling was his immediate response.
Cloud kicked himself back up to the rocks in panic to avoid a splash of water and limbs.
“Betrayed! Trapped! Stuck here, Cursed!” Squall growled, tail angrily cutting through the surface of the sea, and its clawed hands gripping in the sand. It looked ahead of it, not focused on Cloud, seeing something else … remembering something else, its eyes silver all over as the black shrank to a pinprick. The hissing noises started again, odd sounds no human throat could make.
Why had he asked!
Cloud didn’t even dare inch for the boat, shaking as he was by the rock face, his hand disrupting a few stones as he held his distance.
Then, with the turning speed of a startled bird, the Mer’s mood changed.
Squall laid his head upon his folded arms and sighed. “Cursed, cursed by man and pacts and gold,” his tail nearly ceased to move as a long sighing hum escaped in the Mer’s new melancholy. “We stay and starve, we cannot leave.”
Cloud was not prepared to move, even to run away. As the seconds tiptoed past the new mood of the Mer once again pulled at Cloud’s curiosity. Cloud hesitantly asked, “Do you mean the gold you wear? Is it cursed?”
Squall met Cloud’s eyes for the first time since his anger, and a small chuckle escaped its lips. “No, my dear fisherman, not this gold.” He sighed, “We never received our end of the pact, we were never handed what was owed … we wait for it even now. Cannot leave, cannot return to the sea until our pact is completed.”
“But …” Cloud glanced across the Mer’s adorned tail, “You have so much? What difference would a bit more gold make?”
Squall smiled again, “Much, dear Cloud. Naiads do not treasure gold for its value as men do, though greed is an impulse we share. Is it not in your stories?”
Cloud thought back, then shook his head, “I’ve heard you eat men and terrorise the bay, and larger ships at sea, the Elders speak of you as warnings.”
“A shallow idea of us, when we are so much more,” was the immediate prideful comment. A little amused smile pulled at his thin lips as Squall’s thoughts went places Cloud couldn't guess. “There are better stories to listen to.”
Cloud squirmed for a moment in the silence, then asked, “Will you tell me the one of your curse?”
Squall considered. “It would be more than a fair exchange for what was given … but you have been brave, and curious. I like that. I will tell you our story.” With a few splashes he had comfortably curled himself against a smooth rock in the sun, the waters lapping at his waist and causing all his gold to glitter below the water like diamond dust.
Cloud in turn got comfortable by the rock face, at a safe distance from any further mood changes. “Does it begin ‘Once upon a time’?”
Squall laughed, “Don’t they all?”
All the Mer’s remark earned was a roll of the eyes.
“Years ago,” Squall began, “A Sailor stood on these bay shores and faced the night time sea. He sang our ancient songs, drew mine-clan near to him, and promised us much … much like yourself, dear Cloud.” The Mer paused to give him a smile, “The Sailor wished for fair winds, fresh charters, and a safe harbour for his home: he desired to earn his fortune at sea, for his bay to be kept safe, so that he may rise above his station. His greed led him to us, as with our efforts, and blood, and magic the life he desired would be guaranteed.”
“Mine-clan’s leader heard his pleas, and was prepared to give him all he wished for an exchange: his first gold.” Squall seemed to shiver lightly, “A portion of his first-earned gold would be so potent with the lust of his greed!- Ah, it would have sustained our magic and prosperity for years to come. It is more than just metal to us, my dear fisherman. We hear the stories and taste the emotions of all who handled it through the ages; through kindness and madness, lust and even love. It makes us strong.”
“For the Sailor, it was a small pittance, to us … eternity. It becomes a part of us,” Squall lifted his tail from the water, the glitter of the gold and the jewels sparkled mesmerizingly. Cloud couldn’t help but lean forward, what kinds of tales did they hold for Squall alone to hear?
Cloud stared for a while after it returned to the water.
“So the deal was made. The Sailor boarded a ship, and set sail for open waters and we followed. We chased away his competition, steered his ship to favourable currents and fair winds, shed our blood for his cause while he worked above. He earned his coin, obtaining it with a ruthlessness that excited us! He thought not for the suffering he caused, and only for the satisfaction of his greed. His story would add much to our gold, we thought as we watched. We watched as he earned his way, first scraps of bronze lined his pocket, then silver, silks, papers and gems! Months, years, we had waited and watched, it had to be soon.” The irritable swish of his tail returned as the passion of the Mer rose. “Ladened with his riches he returned to land, this bay. We followed. We waited, and waited … he never returned to sea!”
“He marries and prospers, and takes our efforts for his own!”
Cloud leaned forward, enraptured, yet fearful of the rising temper in Squall’s voice. But unable to move away.
“In the long nights we howl of our grievances, calling to him for what was owed; you have risen above your station, Sailor, your bay is safe from pirates and maneaters: Where is what we are owed? ” Squall’s voice had a lyrical rasp, but it was full of anger.
“At last, he can no longer ignore our calls; we confront him, we shriek our outrage as he lives and bears proudly what mine clan’s efforts had earned him, and demand the gold he owes us.” Claws dragged over the rocks, nails pulling chunks of the stone into his palms as he spat the words; “He refused to honour his deal, saying there will be other gold.”
The clicking and snarling language took over momentarily, Squall’s mounting anger devolving into swears in his own tongue.
“He owed us! We were bound to guard this bay until our gold, and it was not coming. We became trapped, my dear Cloud, by our own nature. Yet, said we as he returned to shore, the bay can be kept safe from all things should we wish it …”
Cloud opened his mouth to object, that it went against the terms on their end. But, the words of the Elders slipped into his mind and he paused. Just like this rock technically being outside the bay and therefore free territory, so was their wordplay about keeping the bay safe allowing them to act against the man who’d cheated the Mers.
He straightened up to pay further attention.
Squall carried on the tale, “Our leader said ‘if he will not honour his terms, then he and all Two-legs will suffer and starve until our pact is owed’. Upon our fury we tore down the ships, leaving his untouched so he would know he was the one to blame. We ripped out the dock, clawed and made unsafe the cliff sides, chased away the fish, and wounded all Two-legs who swam within our reach; we defended the waters as per our terms to our full potential. As we vowed: all will suffer because of him!”
The tale of destruction sounded mythical, Cloud could only imagine how terrified the village must have been as all they depended on was ripped out from under them, for a fault not their own. What must have been on the Sailor’s mind as he saw his home start to fall into the Mer’s clutches?
“Why did … why did you cause the suffering of the whole village? It was just the one man who injured you?” Cloud weakly protested.
Squall chuckled darkly without a hint of remorse, instead there was something else in his tone, pleasure. “All needed to suffer, save him; so that they would turn their eyes upon him and wonder ‘why is this Sailor being spared?’ While he was beyond our clutches up on his land, the status he had gained because of us we could use against him. It tied him to this land, it made him responsible for his neighbours.”
The Sailor must have gained a title and land when he returned from the sea, Cloud realised. ‘So that’s what he meant by ‘rising above his station.' The Sailor would have earned money from the village for the rest of his life, and the life of his descendents if he played it right. But also, as an owner of the village he’d be responsible for it and its people. If the Mer were threatening his reputation and undermining his future wealth it wasn’t like he could pack up and leave without breaking the law or inviting the ire of his neighbours; nor could he leave as rich as he literally was, all his wealth was in this land.
It made horrible sense. What an ugly tactic, but brutally efficient at turning all he loved into a trap of his own making.
Squall continued, “He came to us again, ‘Monsters, Devils, what do you want?!’ We repeat our terms, remind him of what he owes to us. We remind him of our power, what we can do to remove that precious status he so desperately craved if he denies us what he promised. That Sailor denies earning any gold, thinking he could outsmart us from the start with his meticulous earning of only silver.” Squall laughed darkly, “We laughed; so blind did he think we were? Was there not something on shore he bought with his riches that shone like gold? Something he carried upon his chest and hid away inside his house? We claimed it as ours, it would satisfy our pact if he should give it to us, our anger would cease, he could return to the good life he converted.”
“He Agreed.”
“He agreed, but we were not to be fooled again by a man who thought to earn only silver to deny us our gold. We listened and heard his efforts to try and hide it away again - Foolish man, thinking that the beach he stood on was so above our revenge when we had generously shown our mercy to him twice!”
“We summoned the sea and the tides, we grew a storm, and we besieged the beach up to where he stood mocking us. We had no more mercy. He screamed and begged in our hands as we dragged him down, down to the depths, and ate his flesh- revenge for our blood spilled, punishment for refusing what was owed to us-!”
Squall quietened suddenly, his passionate retelling coming to an abrupt halt.
Cloud’s knees were nearly at the surf as he edged forward again, when had he climbed down from the rocks? “Then what happened?”
Squall met his eyes, his face neither happy nor sad, “Dead.” The voice was now brittle; hollow, lost. “The Sailor was dead. But he had put away out of our reach what was owed. It is in our nature to keep our bargains. So we remain, cursed to be here for all of time so it seems, protecting this bay from pirates and rival maneaters …”
The Mer’s face finally did show a hint of sadness in the pinch of his brow. “Hunted if we take a Two-leg, so we take fish instead. Now there is not enough fish for all of land and sea …”
For a time after the story ended, all that was audible was the lapping of waves and the far off caws of birds. Cloud turned over the story in his mind, Squall’s story strange, scary, and tragic in equal measure. Was it pity he felt now for the trapped? Or something more vindictive, as both greedy parties suffered pointless ends?
Cloud picked at his laces as he untangled his thoughts.
Still trying to process all the Mer had said, Cloud turned to look at Squall and saw that he was now the one being stared at. Squall watched him with endless fascination, something both ancient and childlike in his demeanour.
It snapped him out of his stupor, those were eyes that viewed people as food.
Squall smiled behind his folded arms, amused all over again. “But, then you came along, my dear Cloud.”
He wasn’t close enough to touch Cloud, but Cloud got the feeling he wanted to, whether it was to embrace, rub up on him like a cat, or something more sinister/harmless he couldn’t predict; and that frightened him.
“Isn’t that grand? You are a part of this story. You and I make our new bargain so many years after, and the fish fill our bellies once more. The bay is safe again, all because of you. What hope you have brought us all, my dear fisherman. A better man of his word I could not have found,” Squall hummed, contentedly narrowing his eyes with the widening of his hidden smile.
Cloud laughed at the Mer’s compliment, a light blush rising on his face for a reason he could not name. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true …” he agreed without thinking. After he spoke, he tried to think it over some more while the Mer hummed in contentment: ‘My role in the story? Am I truly a part of this as he says. It happened so long ago … ’ Squall thought so, it seemed; and Mer did not lie. Cloud ducked his head a little as he thought of his own small slice of the story being one day told with even half the passion Squall had for the Sailor’s cursed pact. What would he say? Would he be merely a passing few words, or would Squall wax poetic with emotion and that lyrical voice … Cloud didn’t want to ask, but he wanted to know.
Cloud, with effort, pushed the entire longing notion out of his mind; the Mer was just messing with him again, that’s what it had to be.
“If … if someone could find the gold you needed, would you be free?”
The waves lapped calmingly. Squall shook his head just as gently, “Get those thoughts out of your head, my dear Cloud. Searching would not help.”
Cloud didn’t want to push him any further.
A few more minutes passed in silence, and Cloud finally looked up at the sun, only to see it blazing clear overhead. How had he even been talked into staying so long? He thought as he realised the passage of time.
Cloud had to get back to shore, he needed to treat his share of the fish back at home or they’d turn foul. Squall watched him the whole time as he dragged himself to his feet and winced as his blood returned to his sleepy limbs.
Cloud climbed into his old creaker and Squall was promptly there to nudge him back out into an ideal place to start rowing, as he had done many times now.
Cloud offered him a nod of thanks, “Until next time.”
“I will be waiting.”
Squall vanished into the depths.
Drums and strings gleefully filled the evening air, it had been such a long time Cloud had nearly forgotten what music sounded like. Everyone in the village was here at Cid’s inn, taking up the whole downstairs and out into the surrounding green.
Upbeat jigs pulsed through the crowd, elated in a way he’d never seen.
Once such precious resources; bread, fish, soup, and grog; passed hands carelessly.
A little drunk himself, Cloud whooped with the rest of the crowd as he spun Tifa about in the line dance that had swallowed them as they rested between serving. Tifa shone internally and externally, finally filling out her clothes and kicking her heels like she could do it all night; energetic like she’d never forgotten how.
Aerith swung past too, spinning with delighted laughter through the crowd, revived as the village was.
Even Cid was enjoying himself, though he tried to show only disapproval when Cloud was nearby- even now not approving of Cloud’s successful fishing venture.
If only Cloud could tell him that it was safe …
Tifa pulled on his hands, tipsily swaying into his chest and tripping them out of the line dance. Cloud barely felt the earth hit his back. He definitely heard the cheers of the crowd as they stopped to good naturedly laugh and jeer at the sprawled young people on the floor.
A man passed Cloud a new tankard, and Aerith helped Tifa to her feet, fussily brushing down her dress until she was satisfied her friend was unharmed and once more unruffled.
Tifa guided them both to the only seats available: the empty barrels and laughed as Aerith once more tried to spin her way over, Aerith’s cheeks were flushed with merriment, and alcohol.
Cloud leaned back against the walls of the Inn as Aerith hooked Tifa into skipping another few bars of the dying song before him. Cloud admired how they glowed with happiness, and toasted with the crowd yet again as he stumbled into his seat.
‘What hope you have brought us all, my dear Fisherman,’ leapt unbidden into Cloud’s mind.
‘Yeah,’ Cloud silently agreed with the Mer, happily agreeing now Squall was not here to enjoy being right. He could picture the dark eyes and slow smile clearly, he could imagine the nervous thrill his laugh would bring, like his stomach was doing flips. He knew he was starting to blush again, he knew that those silver eyes wouldn’t miss it, they’d enjoy his response, and maybe he’d say more …
Cloud wondered if Squall could hear this merriment from the bay, and if he knew.
For it was hope that had caused this celebration at the height of midsummer. Cloud’s ventures had kept steady, and the sparks of life were growing stronger in his home: Farmers held new tools, and planned to reap bigger, more plentiful crops with them in the coming months. Traders were able to take more fish away and return with necessities once thought too expensive! The village Elders were even able to indulge in time off to make merry in their successes!
Cid had agreed to host the party, his home highest on the cliffs and surrounded with enough thin woodland to hold most of the village with ease. It also allowed him to call Cloud away from the waters to get more work on the Inn done under the pretence that it was for the revival of midsummer merriment.
Cloud had to fish at least once per week, on at least the day he owed Squall and the Mers their fish, the Elders shot down Cid’s protests and insisted Cloud go, much to the old landlord’s fury. Cloud had never seen him go purple before. The yelling about how they were willing to put a child at risk had shaken the foundations, but the Elders remained steadfast in their insistence and silent on reasons. Cloud bristled at how he’d been called a child, but otherwise kept out of their row.
He’d fished twice that week.
Cid could barely look at him.
Tifa and Aerith stared at him curiously, but kept their questions inside: If Cid hadn’t gotten any answers from the Elders then why should they? Still, they wondered.
And Cloud kept silent.
In the present, the girls plonked down, out of breath, on either side of him. The music had waned, the dedicated musicians getting a well deserved rest and some gorg while an Elder had stood up upon his chair to enthral the people with tales of old.
None of them were anywhere near the storyteller that Squall was, Cloud compared without thinking. It was so easy to switch off during their dictations while Squall had Cloud eager for his every word.
Tales of far off lands, benevolent saints, and wicked sinners seemed so mundane from human lips. Squall had told his story so strangely and so wonderfully it painted brilliant colours in Cloud’s mind long after the tale came to a close. Each expression and emotion from the Mer was so honest and raw when the tale reached highs and lows, it enhanced his words and hooked into Cloud like he was a fish on a line.
The shifting of his expressions lingered in his memory even now, inhuman anger and serene delight, dark joy and playful sadness. Squall barely made sense, but Cloud couldn’t help but try to unravel him.
The night wore on slowly, then the stories shifted to the bay. An Elder so old he could not stand for all to see him, spoke in a frail voice of how this humble village of theirs had always been full of such merriment and joy. He spoke of the old fishermen who brought in the hauls, of the sailors who went out further to far away places for King and Country, and made the area prosperous. Proudly he cited several family names who’d been successful upon the seas.
Cloud flushed in pleasure to hear his Father’s name as one of them, Strife. Tifa shared a delighted smile with him while Aerith squeezed his arm.
Sighing with melancholy, the ancient man shook his head, “All be memories now. For we have but one sailor in this new generation, that Zack Fair, lad. A lucky soul he be, to serve in the King's Navy."
“Here here!” the crowds toasted.
Aerith too raised her tankard, and Cloud, tankardless, stomped his feet against his barrel for his best friend.
Clearly in his cups, the man continued, "Aye, it be that one fateful year, one year and it all changed. Our boats sunk, our fish gone, the dock left gutted like our prized hauls, and worse …” He looked about at the crowds now hanging on his every word, his crooked fingers jabbed toward those nearest, “You listen to what I says now; many of yer think you know the dangers of the waters, and those Devils that lurk. Fish coming back doesn't make the waters safer, and you may lay to that. Even if ye stay high above, by thunder, yer are not safe! You listen here, listen to this old dog; those Devils have ways to catch you.”
Surely there was not a soul who wasn't captured by those words.
“It not be their strength, or their storms that be the most powerful thing about them. Nay, it be their Voice. It holds a power like the Devil holds power over sinners. It's said they sing like God’s angels, all to drag you to deepest Hell.”
Cloud scoffed at first. But soon realised that Squall had never sung for him before.
He’d laughed and it was not an unpleasant sound, he recalled. Other sounds filled his mind, Squall’s deep chuckles, his unsettling cussing in his own tongue, the low soothing humming when he was content … a sound so close to a tune but more like a rumbling purr that always seemed to relax Cloud as much as the Mer was relaxed, purring like a contented cat …
With Squall as powerful a storyteller as he was, what would it be like to hear him singing? Those eyes closed in concentration, serene, or fixed intensely upon his audience of one while words and notes fell from those strange lips and off of his tongue. Cloud shifted slightly at the thought, feeling warm under his collar.
“You listen here!” Cloud snapped back to the present, the old man’s rambling now turning into a drunken tirade despite his family’s efforts to quiet him down. “When the wind blows in from the sea ye close your windows tight! Even if the weather be stifling. For if you hear them calling in the night, yer will find yourself laid out on the beach for them to drag to the depth … And by the powers: you'd go with open arms to their cursed embrace.”
As he finished he was quickly ushered away, another Elder quietly scolding him while the drums and fiddle started again in the background.
But the mood had changed, and others began to tentatively speak of the old legends too.
Cloud saw a few glances turn his way, but ignored them. He looked into his tankard in deep thought; Squall’s Voice. His speaking voice was deep and soothing, tangling Cloud’s thoughts into knots like a net. Could he … should he ask for more? Cloud wavered, knowing it was a bad idea, but he couldn’t help but imagine it. The tone of his voice was something Cloud could already feel in his bones just from his fantasies.
“Zack once told me that the kiss of a Siren was magic, and could save a man from drowning,” Aerith leaned on her knees with a sigh, breaking Cloud out of his deep thoughts and making him flush for thinking them in the first place.
Aerith continued, “Then he kissed me. Said we’d be bonded across our own seas, with our own magic.”
Tifa swooned slightly against him, “So romantic!”
Cloud grimaced into his latest drink, now sober enough to taste how watered down the grog was getting, and sober enough to realise his thoughts were getting away from his sensibilities. Definitely sober enough to want to vanish from this conversation; he didn’t need to know what his best friends were up to whenever Zack was on shore leave.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Aer, the Mer don’t kiss.”
He reimagined Squall’s lips and teeth, skin of his palms like sharkskin, that blackened tongue … He could imagine him singing, he could imagine the song being beautiful, but to exchange affections with a kiss? Surely any kiss from him would be rough and painful? Blood and greed, not like the soft mouths of-
“Yeah? And how would you know?” Aerith crossed her arms.
“Well …” damn his drinks for loosening his tongue! “Um, Sirens are women, aren’t they?” Cloud floundered for an excuse.
“Are the Mer all men?” Tifa asked, unconvinced, and no longer leaning on Cloud.
Aerith said at the same time, “It’s not like most sailors can tell what’s a tit or a chest when they’re after company.”
Tifa spluttered.
Cloud could only shrug. “Cid and the others call them devils and maneaters. They wouldn’t kiss, and I’m not sure they’re men either, no matter the chest.” An imaginary Squall seemed to laugh in his ear, a flash of scales in his mind … Yes, he was not a man, no matter how he appeared.
Aerith scruitinised his answer and was unsatisfied, “Well: Zack’s been at sea for years and he’s been fine. You’re fishing like your Dad, and you’ve not been eaten, thank God.” She tapped her chin, “No one’s seen a Mer in years; how do we know they’re even still there? Elders keep us away, and no one ever checks-”
With a growing alarm Cloud cut her off, “Aerith, our parents … there’s a reason we keep away,” he reminded her, and hated it. It was all they’d ever heard growing up; how their parents died in the Mer attack, or shortly after it, and how unfortunate it was. Sick of it, they’d decided in their youths to not mention it to each other if they could help it.
So he knew his words would shut Aerith up.
She did. Her eyes turned flinty and her hands fisted in her skirts.
Tifa gently covered her fists with her own gentle hands, “Let’s not speak of that. We have heard it all before.” When she got a silent nod from Aerith, Tifa continued her thoughts, “The fact that we still don’t see fish in the bay is worrying enough, there’s got to be Mer still there,” she pointed out, Cloud nodding slightly as he saw her point. Even Aerith considered it.
Cloud wished he had thought of that before reaching for the subject of their parent’s deaths. He hadn’t wanted to hurt his friends, but he didn’t want them near the beaches. Ever.
After achieving peace, Tifa sat back and wondered out loud: “We’ve never heard of the Mer’s Voice before. It’s all about the waterline and the cliff-edges, and how dangerous the bay is at night. Do you think that could be true?” she asked Cloud directly.
Cloud shrugged, “It’s dangerous at night, for sure. Even Zack would agree to that without Mers in the bay. Other than that I couldn’t say.”
“Do any of the other Elders tell you similar stories when you meet them?” Aerith asked with characteristic bluntness.
Surprised, Cloud turned to face her.
She, in turn, blinked at his shock and grew confused. Then a little incredulous; “We see you speaking with them, Cloud, we’re not blind.”
“I-I never said you were,” Cloud covered with a wince.
Aerith rolled her eyes, “But that’s the thing; you never say anything. The Elders won’t tell Cid either, only that it’s important but we don’t need to know.” Tifa gripped the fabric of her dress too, betraying her feelings. Aerith lowered her voice as she asked Cloud directly; “What do you talk about?”
Cloud wondered if this was tit for tat, earned by bringing up their parents. He lowered his head to avoid their concerned eyes. “I can’t say.”
“Is it about your fishing? Cid tried to stop you going but they overruled him,” Aerith pressed. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”
“No, not angry; he was scared,” Tifa murmured. “Scared for you, and mad at them.”
“Look. I-I really can’t say,” Cloud insisted, raising his head to look them in the eyes, “The Elders swore me to secrecy, okay? I can’t tell anyone, not Cid, or- or even Zack or you two,” he backed away a little, the distance feeling twice as wide as they processed their disappointment.
Before his eyes, he watched them give each other a series of silent looks, and then Tifa looked back at Cloud with open concern, “We’re worried about you, Cloud. Just, can you tell us that you’re alright?”
Aerith’s expression held an odd knowing even before Cloud answered. Her eyes complex with something like sadness, and something like pity, and something like anger.
“I’ll be fine, Tifa. I promise.”
It was the truth … so long as he paid what was owed. Yet somehow Cloud still felt like a liar.
Fishing had been good again, Squall enjoyed seeing more than his minimum promised and clicked a few times in delight. Cloud couldn’t help but smile too, something about how fully he embodied each emotion was infectious sometimes. Especially when he was in a good mood that wasn’t at Cloud’s expense. A rarity.
Squall returned the baskets as Cloud climbed up onto his usual perch to have lunch, he was famished! Squall too seemed to have been hungry today as he’d already eaten, Cloud could tell by how the Mer licked his lips and patted his belly.
The Mer swam below Cloud, glittering before him as if to catch his eye- as if Cloud wasn’t always aware of him. “We heard much celebration a few days ago, Cloud, up on the cliffs.”
Cloud gave a tilt of the head, “You could hear us from up there?”
“The water carries sound,” Squall explained, treading water, in his way, to speak to Cloud face to face. He still tilted his head up as the rock was higher than the water, but it did show off how strong he’d gotten. Each ripple of abdominal muscle was near-hypnotic. It was much harder to see his ribcage than it had been at the start. Now he was more filled out, the unnatural sharpness of his features were smoothed with fat, from chest to face. With rounded cheeks and fuller lips Cloud could admit that Squall was handsome … if he was born a Man.
Cloud bit into his apple, “I never knew that.”
“You’re never underwater,” Squall countered gently. He swam a little closer. “The celebration sounded fun, it’s been so many years since we last heard the din of better times.”
Cloud huffed, why did he feel the need to compare the festivities to a din? “With the fishing we’ve been able to enjoy ourselves a bit. It was midsummer, and we used to celebrate it every year. Thanks to the fish, it's been revived.”
“Thanks to you , my dear Cloud,” Squall softly corrected. “It was you who found ways to catch the elusive fish. You are too humble, it is your actions, you are smart enough to know it is, why not say it from time to time? Why not feel pride in seeing your efforts bear you the fruit you craved? The celebrations you cause?”
He had turned to look Cloud in the eye and smiled charmingly as he finished singing Cloud’s praises and efforts. A smile of fondness, that made Cloud blush. Squall’s smile grew into the sly amusement Cloud had come to expect and Cloud huffed and ducked his head.
“You have a way with words.”
“Obviously. A Mer who doesn’t isn’t worth their tail, or their tongue,” Squall spun in the water, making the surroundings glitter a little.
But speaking of ‘tongues’, Cloud was reminded of the old sea dogs warnings …
Cloud tilted his head, curious again. “Is it true?”
Squall clicked and tilted his head before saying in human words, “Is what true?”
“What was that? Cat got your tongue?” Cloud laughed, and Squall’s smile grew a little wider. Since the really good hauls of summer started everyone was in a good mood. Cloud got comfortable on the higher point of the rocky island and looted through his pockets to begin his lunch, “I mean is it true about your voice when you sing? Apparently it’s powerful enough to drive men mad even on land.”
Squall’s amusement teetered on the edge of something else momentarily; what it could have been was hard to say. In the end he gave a thoughtful hum, “Well Cloud, asking me about my voice … that’s a bit like me asking to test your knife’s metal.” He stopped treading water and moved to the sunning rocks.
Cloud paused in unwrapping his food. Comparing his voice to Cloud’s knife. “Do you mean in a weapon sense or a tools sense?” he tried to clarify, knowing his knife could cut flesh but was intended to cut resources first.
Squall pulled himself up onto a better rock to lounge in his typical way, “Hmm … both,” he decided, giving Cloud another smile. Which put Cloud back at ease, and, recalling how Squall’s playful moods usually ended up in Cloud losing something, he focused on eating rather than whatever scheme the Mer had devised to try and make a fool out of Cloud today.
“It is strange that you ask … it has been such a long time since I have sung.”
Cloud swallowed and chased down his morsel with a swig of his canteen, for once filled with good ale. “At the celebration the Elders who’d once been out at sea were telling stories about your kind. He said that your worst weapon was your voice, that you could sing men into their deaths.”
Squall merely raised his eyebrows, “I feel as if you Two-legs remember better than us what we were capable of … sometimes.”
“So it isn’t true?” Cloud tried to have Squall make sense.
Squall sighed, “It may have been true once, my dear Cloud. It has been so long … Our songs are our emotions, our intent, our desires, our power; spoken purely without clumsy words. Mine-clan has stared starvation in the face for so many years without an end in sight; only death awaited us. What was there to sing about that we wanted to hear?”
“Oh.”
The conversation seemed to die. There was a period of silence, save for the natural ambiance.
Despite how morbid Squall’s words had been, it was peaceful, and Squall was humming again.
Cloud tossed away his apple core and opened his lunch proper. As Cloud had been doing well in his fishing (and not turned up torn to bits by angry sea devils) and earning the Inn a small share of side money, Cid was slowly easing in his cold shoulders and lectures and had started to give Cloud a little something back too. Instead of tough bread and whatever preservatives Cid could spare for a worker’s lunch, he was getting a whole slice of pie, and sometimes even ale that didn’t taste like it had been spat in and watered down.
Seemed not even Cid could avoid the good mood of the successful summer.
Cloud sipped down the ale and hummed himself as it settled in his belly.
The sun was warm, the air pleasant and it was so easy to just bask in the moment. To stretch up and lean into the soft haze guiding him to relax. His breathing slowed languidly to the rhythm of a gentle sound.
He took a step. Was the ale getting to him so fast? The warmth radiated from inside as well as out, his lips curled into a soft smile. Soft as the light all around him, the sand under him, the sounds all around him. When had he last felt so good?
Shy moments locked in his small inn bedroom sprung to mind. The warmth now deepened to the heat he recalled when it would pool inside of him and urge him, coax him, to sink into desire.
Pleasant thoughts rippled across his mind, Cloud relaxed. He knew his cheeks were warm too, everything was. The sun radiant, the sand warm, the rocks pleasantly cool, as was the lapping water. And still something called to him, sinking into his bones, louder now, clear as day.
He wanted to give in. To give … to … give …
The noise came to an abrupt stop.
Cloud blinked.
He stood knee-deep in water, the ocean. His hands were outstretched, but empty. His body flushed with that lingering heat, tenting evidence remained and made Cloud aggressively blush!
“Wh-what?”
Chuckling in his ear startled him.
Cloud spun around.
Squall lay right next to him, at a height where they now looked at each other face to face. Squall chewed and swallowed, “So very kind of you, my Cloud, thank you for sharing.” He leaned forward to nuzzle at Cloud’s cheek, unexpectedly smooth skin brushing against Cloud’s; so cool against his overheated face, skin silky smooth and pale on his blush, it felt so nice.
Cloud gasped and stumbled backward out of reach.
Squall opened his eyes, leaned on his hand, and brought Cloud’s slice of pie to his mouth.
Cloud stared. He turned to look at the rocks, he saw what remained of his lunch as crumbs. His canteen on its side and dripping sadly, his pack discarded as if absently kicked to one side.
But he’d just sat down to eat. What had happened? How was he standing in the shallows? Confused, disorientated and frightened, he lurched back toward his precious overhang, where he thought he’d been safe.
He braced one arm against the cool rock, dizzy with the fast-fading heat. Unsettled to suddenly find himself in a different spot than a mere moment ago, aroused when he hadn’t been a moment ago. When had he- how had he- why had he … Squall was no longer humming.
Ice flooded his veins.
The silence that broke his stupor- ‘Dear God.’
Cloud swallowed and swiftly pulled himself out of reach- as if that would help him! He nearly slipped, hands barely gripping through his shaking. Could he outrun the humming? Was it possible to get far enough? No, he was on an island. He was alone.
Cloud panted on his knees, out of immediate reach but not a step closer to being safe- had he ever been safe?
Squall followed him with his eyes the whole time. Smiling, always smiling, like nothing was wrong. He wasn’t even teasing or laughing, he just watched as if Cloud was a very fascinating mouse in a cat’s eye.
“I-I have to go,” Cloud stuttered. “Got th-things to do.”
“Of course,” Squall purred, finally sounding like his usual mocking self. “Sounds very busy, can’t have it get away from you.”
Before Squall had finished speaking Cloud was scrambling away. Soft laughter followed him until he finally rowed out of range. He didn’t stop in the shallows, nor the beach, nor the village. He didn’t bother to put away his nets or oars, he tossed the fish barrels to the workers waiting above the waterline and ran home to the Inn, to his room, without a word.
That night, Cloud dreamed of the ocean.
Cloud’s work around the Inn was half-arsed at best. He kept up the pretence of cleaning and straightening up the Inn to hide his incessant pacing. Whenever he stayed still too long he could feel the water lapping at his legs, he would imagine the slight roughness of inhuman skin on his cheek. His hands and knees shook at the memory, and his stomach threatened to turn.
He couldn’t remember moving …
Well, no, that wasn’t true. He recalled clearly what he did. He remembered standing up, walking in a trance-like sway over to Squall, who called to him so serenely, and finally holding out his hands to the Mer to give him what he wanted.
He just didn’t recall thinking to do it.
His mind had not been permitted to question it. He’d acted outside of himself while his mind was pliant with that soft humming from Squall’s throat. His dangerous voice … encircling him with his sound, coaxing him with the ancient power the old sea-dog Elder had spoken of with such fear: Squall could have made Cloud do anything, and Cloud knew he would have done so without thought.
No worse, Cloud would have done whatever the Mer desired and barely been aware of it; suspended in a moment where everything was so, so perfect …
Then he’d woken up.
He still felt the sickening sensation within him as awareness had rushed back to him. Like drawing in a rushing tide, breaking over him as if he were a rock in the way of a storm. Confusion, disorientation and fear came next, shortly followed by horror.
God have mercy, Cloud gripped the edge of the bar a little tighter, cleaning up the remnants of someone’s ale spill.
If only that was all that there was to be frightened of; Squall- The Mer hadn’t used his- it’s voice to sing, the stories said to beware their singing : Squall had merely hummed!
Cloud fretfully recalled all the times he’d relaxed to that sound, despite it coming from a dangerous creature, now he understood why. “It’s like asking to test your knife’s mettle.” Understatement of the century. What kind of knife invited a victim to smile while he walked into the point?
Now he knew what to look for Cloud realised he had no way of knowing how long he had been affected by this humming. The Mer wasn’t human so Cloud had been wary of the physical danger it posed. Like a strange animal that could lash out with teeth and claws. So hooked on the physical he had not examined any of his- its actions for malicious intent, he’d been so sure that the worst it could do was kill him …
The only certainty he had to go on was that it must have been at its weakest when the Mer was at its weakest; he’d never lost himself like that before, but now he knew what to look for he could recognise influences to his moods. Small hums from the Mer’s throat that had put him at ease; only slightly at first. Cloud recalled rationalising the noise as a sign of Squall’s contentment, like a cat purring, which Cloud used to measure Squall’s unpredictable moods and act accordingly.
Then, while he had gotten used to it, the effects had gotten stronger, and Cloud recalled in perfect concern how that noise of contentment for the Mer had shifted to make him relax too, and sparked a desire to stay. To stay longer, and longer … what if he tricked Cloud into staying past sundown? To put him at the Mer’s mercy as their deal had promised?
Another technicality to put their deal into the Mers favour?
That cursed deal! Cloud was so sure he’d made the bay safe for everyone. What a fool he’d been. No wonder the Mer had agreed with barely a challenge.
Now everyone was not only in as much danger as they were before at high tides and storms, but perhaps more: ‘Thanks to me, he’s gotten stronger,’ Cloud weakly sunk into a chair in the Inn’s kitchens. ‘They will all have gotten stronger, if they all sing then even at night and in our houses we’re not safe.'
Cloud put his head into his hands.
‘What do I do?'
Warn the Elders was first on the list, he supposed, but they could only put precautions in place. Cloud was bound to feed the sea Devils, and they wouldn’t leave, and they would not forgive or be peaceful if Cloud’s deal was broken.
Images of rushing red water flashed into his mind, could they be strong enough to do that again now?
'What have I done?'
What else was there to do? To break off the deal in an attempt to starve them to death would invite their inconceivable wrath upon his home. As well as kill the village. But to continue, to strengthen his home would also strengthen their greatest danger.
‘Could I change the deal again?’ he fretted, now pulling at his hair. ‘He- It will have demands of its own if I do, what could it want? Whatever it wants, it’ll ask for something that will allow it the freedom to do as much harm as it and its kind wishes, eventually. I can’t trap them in a deal, Squall’s too smart for that,’ Cloud groaned.
‘What do I do? Please, God, someone, anyone, tell me what I should do?’
“Cloud?”
Cloud yelped, his knee smarting sharply as he kicked the table he’d been leaning on. “Ah fuck, ow!” he hissed.
Tifa. It had been Tifa who’d startled him.
She rushed to the bucket of fresh, cool water and dunked in a rag. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you- let me see,” she gushed, offering the cool compress and hovering like she was about to yank up his trousers to assess the damage herself but didn’t wish to make things worse.
Cloud grunted his thanks and pressed the aid to his skin after rolling up his trouser leg. In truth the pain was already ebbing. “Thanks.”
Tifa pressed her hands together, rubbing at her knuckles; a small tic of anxiety.
Cloud tilted his head, “Um, are you alright?”
The young woman hesitated, then cautiously sat down on a chair of her own. She was moving slowly, as if she would startle Cloud again. “I was about to ask you the same thing. Are you alright?” her big brown eyes were pinched in concern, “You’ve been … absent minded this evening, and,” Cloud tried to cut her off but she spoke a bit louder, “you’ve not been yourself for days. Sometimes you’re pale as a ghost, I thought you’d faint, and other times you act like a ghost and you barely seem to know what surrounds you, or who’s speaking.”
Tifa rushes on like her words had burst from a dam. “You’ve picked at your food all day, I’m not sure you slept last night, and I’ve been calling your name for most of the evening but you’re just … you never responded until now, then- then you hurt yourself: You’re worrying me Cloud.”
She finally stopped to breathe.
Cloud lowered his head to stare at his knee. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”
Tifa’s hands bunched in her skirts. “You’re lying.”
Cloud fought not to wince at the accusation, true as it was. He shook his head, refusing her attempts to get into his field of view or raise his head.
“Why? Why are you lying to me?” Tifa gave up looking at him and took Cloud by the shoulders to shake him “We’ve hidden things from each other before, but we’ve never lied. Tell me what’s going on!”
“I can’t!” Cloud sighed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t say, and you know why.”
Tifa shook her head, “No, I don’t. You have your little meetings with the Elders but they’ve never left you jumping like the devil is in every shadow. This is different, something has happened, why won’t you let me help you?”
“There’s nothing to be done, Tifa,” Cloud insisted, gritting his teeth. “I’m fine. The fishing’s fine, the village is fine, the inn is fine. I’m fine. It’s all going to be fine.”
“You are not fine,” Tifa stubbornly pulled his chin up to look at his face. Cloud knew he looked awful. “Are you sick? You’re the only one sick, is it the fishing making you so ill? Maybe you should not fish this week-”
“No!”
Tifa took a step back.
Cloud regretted yelling, but the ice cold fear shot through him so deeply he couldn’t stop the guttural yelp of denial. “I-I,” Cloud looked away from her frightened and hurt expression again, “I need to fish, it’s important.”
“We can survive without for a week,” Tifa insisted, Cloud kept shaking his head.
‘No,’ he thought. He thought of sharp teeth and lulling voices, of waves storming the beach like enemy cavalry. Of the utter absence of regret in the only familiar face he could put to the sea devils. ‘No we can’t survive a week without fishing.’
“Maybe you could have help? You can pick someone to train, an apprentice? There’s plenty of lads out there wanting more than work in the fields. You can show them how to fish as well, then it wouldn’t put all the pressure on your shoulders?” Tifa brightened a little when Cloud didn’t immediately shoot down the thought. “The Inn can stand on its own with only three workers, I could fish too and you can rest here sometimes. You could show me-”
“No!”
The hurt flashed over her again, and stayed longer. It turned to anger this time. “Why is this suddenly so important?” Tifa snapped, “You act like I’m taking away a drunkard’s precious drink.”
Cloud stood up, “I have to do this myself, no one else. Just stay out of it, for God’s sake.”
“‘For God’s sake?’” Tifa parotted angrily, “God help me if I give a damn about you Cloud Strife, and want to see you better than this! You don’t sleep, you don’t eat, you barely talk to anyone anymore, and you can barely focus- It’s like all that matters to you now is fishing.”
Shaking his head, Cloud pushed back, “That’s not true-”
“Isn’t it? Then why won’t you take a day off?” Tifa challenged, “Why is it turning you into a wreck? Why are the Elders encouraging it rather than helping- what’s going on?” she was in tears now, and Cloud hated to see it.
Cloud had no answer, only to insist that he had to do this alone. He had to fish, he had to keep the Mer happy, and he couldn’t breathe a word of it or Tifa would definitely try to get involved, maybe try to make her own deal with the devils in an attempt to ‘help’. What would they ask of her in exchange? The thought nearly made him throw up then and there.
She gripped his arms again, shook him weakly, “Can’t you see it’s bad for you?”
“I have to.” Cloud wanted to put his hands over his ears, block this out. ‘I have to or we’re all doomed!’
“I can’t lose you Cloud! If you go out now you’ll hurt yourself. Fall overboard, or drown out there, or worse. Please, you’ll end up like your Father if you keep this up-”
“You can help by leaving me alone!”
Cloud’s roar finally brought the argument to a close.
Tifa didn’t make a noise, but her tears kept coming.
Cloud immediately regretted everything. “Tifa …”
She shook her head, and turned to run upstairs to their rooms above the Inn. It wasn’t close to closing time. Cloud called her name one more time but she was gone.
He fell back into his chair and sighed. ‘I’m sorry …’
“Am I interrupting?”
Cloud peeked through his fingers. Aerith stood before him, head tilted. She folded her arms, “That … didn’t sound like it went well.”
Cloud scoffed.
Aerith fidgeted. “She’s worried about you. She cares a lot about you.”
“I know,” he sighed and lowered his head. “I didn’t mean to yell. I just couldn’t give her the answers she wanted and …”
“And you didn’t want her involved,” Aerith sighed too, “You didn’t need to shout at her.” The Inn had to be busy still, but she took a seat beside him anyway. Cloud hoped and prayed she wasn’t about to argue with him too. “It’s obvious that you’ve been struggling with something lately, and if you really can’t tell us why, can you maybe tell us how to make it easier for you instead?”
Cloud considered her words. So similar to Tifa’s but coming from a new angle. Savvy, he could hear Squall commenting, and grew tired again. Maybe he could …
“It would put me at ease if you guys never went to the beach, never ever if you could help it,” Cloud said at last. “I can’t say more than that, please don’t ask,” he nearly begged, head falling into his hands.
Aerith patted his back. “Alright.”
It wasn’t a promise, he could tell by her tone of voice. Unlike a Mer, she wasn’t bound by that one word, but just like them she meant many things by it.
What had she gleaned from his one request?
A few minutes later she spoke again, “I have something for you, maybe it can take your mind off whatever ‘it’ is.” She searched through her pockets and withdrew an envelope, addressed to the Inn. The envelope was as thick as a small book, inside were many bits of paper addressed to various people. Friends and family. Aerith quickly leafed through the pages and pulled out those addressed to Cloud.
She pressed them into Cloud’s hand with a smile, “Zack wrote. The courier arrived at lunch. I'd have given out the letters earlier, but I was a bit absorbed in my own,” she let out a giggle.
Zack … Cloud thumbed over the few pages full of Zack’s loopy handwriting, and managed to smile for the first time in days. It looked like he was doing well, he always wrote a lot when he was living well. Cloud would dedicate more time to reading all the pages later.
“Thank you,” he leaned on Aerith’s side briefly.
She nudged him back. “There’s another one from the usual, too,” she handed him a crisply folded envelope, this one addressed Cloud by name and had unfamiliar handwriting upon it. “It came folded between your letters,” she explained as Cloud took it. “Who do you think it could be?”
Cloud had no clue.
He was an orphan with no extended family, Zack was the only friend who’d left the village. Not to mention that the quality of paper and handwriting was far above the average Zack used to scribble on.
He tore it open with care and pulled out the single page to read it.
Both Aerith and Cloud had received some lessons in reading and mathematics, Aerith was a natural at numbers, but they were both still country villagers with a limited need for reading, so it took them a while to read it together; each helping out when they got to words they were unfamiliar with.
Finally, it was clear.
Zack had gotten Cloud what they'd always wanted: a commission. Addressed to Cloud Strife, an invitation to join the crew of Zack’s ship as a shiphand, signed by Captain Angeal, and due to start in September of this year …
Aerith gasped and jumped to her feet, “Oh my God!” She beamed at him.
Cloud stared at the news.
Aerith patted him on the head, laughing as he sat there stunned, “Cloud, isn’t this exciting?”
Cloud looked at her, “Yeah, it is … I … I don’t believe it,” he weakly said, making her laugh again.
“Believe it. It’s in your hands, if you want it,” she assured him. “I knew Zack would come through for you. It was all you ever talked about when you were boys,” she recalled. “And Captain Angeal has always sounded so responsible when Zack speaks of him. This is just great, I’m so happy for you Cloud.”
Cloud read the words over again, saw the signature and seal of the Officer he’d be serving under, Captain Angeal, and felt a small smile tug at his lips again. He was going to be a real sailor just like his Father before him. With his best friend at his side. It was his dream. Finally, he could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Notes:
Chapter 3 to follow. This story will now have 5 chapters approximately. Chapters 3 and 4 will be ready to post very soon.
Chapter 3: The Devil You Crave
Notes:
Onto new content now. Next chapter will be posted next week. Thank you for your patience as I reorganised this fic.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The ocean surf wisped atop the crests of waves, whipping into a light mist across the surface of the dark water, hiding the presence of any beneath. Seagulls stuck to the cliffs and avoided the fish laid out as an offering around Cloud, a young fisherman honouring a deal with the dangerous Mer of the bay …
As he finished placing the fish baskets, on the shallow beach of a rocky island just beyond the bay, Cloud could sense eyes on him. He quickly turned from the fish to the nets, and put all his focus into them.
“My Cloud, so pale you are today,” Squall spoke as he swam in the shallows. The little cove sparkled when he appeared, his scales shimmering iridescent like the purest ice. While the vast amount of gold adornments chimed and clinked.
Cloud glanced up despite himself, the glittering lights drew his eyes without conscious thought. Those dark eyes like the ocean abyss …
He backed away with his eyes focused on his task of detangling the net. The nets were playing up and in his rush to get away he’d only made it worse, now the twist had become a tangle, unfit for storing. His lack of sleep had made the tasks into trials.
But it seemed his lack of fortune was only just getting started. The Mer left the baskets of fish untouched, and glided through the waters to rest closer to Cloud. “He does not speak to me?”
Cloud stiffened, he tugged a bit less carefully at new threads while always keeping one eye out for the Mer’s movement … ‘Come on, come on! Just come loose!’
Squall propped himself up on strong arms to peer into Cloud’s exhausted face. “You’re so tired, what ails my fisherman so?”
Cloud frowned and turned away, attacking the tangled net with more vigour. “What’s it to you? So long as you get what is owed, right?”
Squall was silent for a moment. His silver eyes pierced through Cloud. “I would not wish for my dear fisherman to be ill …”
Cloud forced out a calm breath. He swore he would not speak to it anymore …
“So tense,” the voice was in his ear.
Cloud flinched at how close he’d gotten so fast.
Laughter followed Cloud as he abandoned his net- it was only a damn net- to scramble out of reach. Up on a dry rock Cloud forced himself to swallow and wet his dry throat, trying to hide the fact he desperately wished to cling to the rock behind him.
Would it even help? He was out in the bay, surrounded by water and an unknown number of mer could lay under the surface. Not that they would be needed, Squall could sing him to his death, or drag him kicking and screaming with his powerful tail. Cloud had even left his knife by the surf in his panic, he noted with dismay. All he had left to defend himself was to hope he could plug his ears fast enough …
Squall leaned on his hand, chin nestled in his palm as his tail lazily swayed in the sun. Muscles rippled across his torso and back, the gauntness of starvation all but gone from him now. He was strong, healthy, and dangerous … due to Cloud’s hard work.
Rainbows and flashes of gold glittered around them, it was as mesmerising as the first time Cloud saw it, but not enough to overcome the fear.
“He does not speak with me, and then he runs from me? How curious.”
Cloud looked away.
“Something is different compared to when we last met, my fisherman flees … this is not the brave you of the past.”
The playful, childish, all-knowing tone made Cloud snap, “Last we met you controlled me! You made me get into the water with your voice.”
Squall momentarily blinked, “That caused you to ignore me? How unusual, I did not know humans prized their apples so.”
“That’s not the point, and you know it!” Cloud glared, knowing full well he’d fallen into the Mer’s trap when the smirk grew across those sharp teeth; he’d just said that for a reaction, for Cloud’s attention, and like a fool he had given it.
Stupid creature, making this about a stolen lunch. He might as well say what he really thinks while the Mer was getting his sick enjoyment out of Cloud’s torment: “You controlled me, you made me walk into the sea. You- you could have killed me!”
“But I didn’t,” the Mer did not raise his voice. He did not stop smiling .
“Not the- you’re doing it on purpose! You are missing the point,” Cloud tugged at his hair. “You can’t do that, you can’t control me.”
“I can.”
Cloud started, struck dumb by the casual statement.
Squall shrugged nonchalantly, “I can. I could use my voice right now. The next time we meet, tomorrow. It is my voice.”
The lapping of the ocean whispered like a ghoul from its grave … Cloud trembled, “Stop misunderstanding me! You’re smart enough to know what I mean. I-it’s not right, it’s wrong- why would you ever do it? Why would you force me to walk into the water when you know … you know I would never have done it of my own will …” he gripped the rocks until his fingers hurt.
Squall pouts, “You asked about my voice.”
“I didn’t want you to use it on me!”
“Were you not curious?” Squall rolled onto his side, the tail shimmering and his tanned upper body flexing with the weight. “You heard of the legends, the pale imitations of our stories from your Elders, and then you asked me directly … Why ask if you did not want to hear me? Why so disappointed when you got what you wanted? Did I not let you go once we both got what we wanted?”
‘ God above, what twisted logic. ’ Cloud glared, “I’m curious about many things, Squall, but that does not mean I want to experience dangerous things.”
“You were not in any danger.”
“You know what I mean …”
“How insincere,” the Mer sounded bored.
Cloud crosses his arms, “Obviously I did not want that, I’d been told your voice could drown sailors and drive men mad. Why would I want that? Why would I put myself in danger?”
He doesn’t understand why he’s so incensed about getting his point across, ‘ He’s not human! ’ he despairs in his own mind. Even as he argues with his words a part of him knows it is futile. How could he, a Mer, ever understand?
Squall met his eyes and smiled, “You are not in danger from me.”
Cloud scoffed, “Oh really? How do I know that you will not control me again and do worse?”
“You are my fisherman, we have a deal. We get what we are owed, we do not swim in the bay while the sun is up; you two-legs do not approach the night time seas, you and yours are safe from us,” Squall reminds him. “You are in no danger, my Cloud.”
‘ Am I? ’ Cloud rubs his eyes, tensely. “So what, so long as I’m still able to fish for you at the end of the day, anything goes? You’ll do what you want and I’ll just have to take it even if I hate it?”
“Was hearing me so bad, Cloud? Was I not beautiful when I sang to you? Is it not easier to think of now you are assured of your specialness in mine eyes?”
Cloud doesn’t answer that. His silence speaks for him.
He’s dreamed of that voice since that day, in the moments of fitful sleep he imagines it there and for a moment utter peace envelopes him, like sinking into the warm shallows of high tide … the weightlessness and stillness of his soul takes his breath away. It haunted him in his waking moments, and then into sleep, where his dreams twist the beauty of the moment out of his rational mind.
The fear always follows close behind; a red tide of screaming villagers, Squall’s smile, a fanged snarl, his eyes hungry and his grip all consuming as he drags Cloud down in a deadly embrace.
Squall’s smile didn’t change through Cloud’s inner conflict. He remained amused and … hungry … in his gaze, fixated on Cloud as if he could read the inner drama of his thoughts and delighted in them.
It made Cloud want to run, or to attack him, just to get away from it, he felt cornered. “I have to insist that you do not hum, or sing, when we meet.”
“You insist, hm?”
Cloud flinched at the thoughtful noise Squall made; no doubt produced just to watch him squirm.
The Mer rolled onto his side and curled slightly to get comfortable, “You insist , not bargain?”
Cloud closed his eyes, putting his head into his hands, hopeless: “No.” - ‘ Isn’t your amusement enough? ’ he felt like adding, but wisely kept his mouth shut.
Squall thinks some more, “Then, you ask as a friend .”
“We’re not friends,” Cloud snapped back, “I ask, that’s it. I don’t want another deal to make things even more complicated. Just don’t do that to me again.”
The Mer pouted, “We share time, we share food, we talk, we know of each other; are we not friends? Would you not say that we see each other more consistently than most who pass through our lives, other than our clans?”
Cloud clenched his teeth. “Friends don’t try to control each other; friends trust each other.”
Squall laughed, “I trust you, my man of his word.”
“I don’t trust you,” Cloud returned.
Squall shrugged, as if knew and expected Cloud’s answer, but also as if Cloud’s response did not matter, and did not hurt or upset him in any way. The Mer idly stretched upon the beach, and sighed as the sun warmed the roughened skin. “Then, for my friend, I will keep my voice in mind for today, I will not hum for you.”
It wasn’t a promise.
Cloud huffed, “Did you only say that so I’d keep talking to you, or to force me to admit that we’re … friends?” he inched around where he was sitting to be out of the Mer’s sight when Squall next decided to open his eyes.
“That depends, do you call me as such?”
Cloud took the chance to dash to the boat and climb aboard. Squall’s laughter followed him back across the waters as he rowed away.
Aerith met Cloud on the beach. Cloud swore and hauled out the baskets after tying up the dinghy to its mooring, he no longer needed to drag the small vessel up beyond the sealine with the deal he had with the Mer keeping the village safe. However, he did not like Aerith standing there and waiting for him so close to where the Mer could strike.
“You said you’d keep away from the beach,” he complained, his face redding as he held back his anger. It wouldn’t do any good to lose his temper at Aerith so soon after snapping at Tifa. “It’s dangerous.”
“You’re here,” Aerith huffed, picking up one of the baskets and walking away, forcing Cloud to keep pace.
“It’s my job,” Cloud objected.
“It’s a job. Anyone could do it,” Aerith countered. Cloud muttered darkly but didn’t argue the point. Aerith pulled up the edge of her dress above her shoes and started walking up the long slope toward their home, the Inn at the top of the cliff.
“Have you thought about your letters yet?”
Cloud paused. She was talking about the Commission he’d received by mail, and by Zack’s recommendation. A commission to join Hewley’s crew and sail the high seas as a cabin boy, and eventually a true sailor. It was a once in a lifetime gift, but Cloud had not spoken to anyone about it yet. Aerith only knew because she had read it alongside him, their shared, limited, education helping them parse the written words into meaning.
“Not yet.”
“Any reason why not? Is it because Tifa’s still upset with you?” Aerith hit the point better than a hammer to a nail.
Cloud grimaced, “No exactly, I … I just need time to think,” he tried to say, only for Aerith to rightfully scoff at him. “It’s a big move!”
“Pull the other leg, Cloud. What’s the hold up?”
He wasn’t about to say the true reason, the Elders of the village had sworn him to secrecy about the Mers, his deal with them, and why he was the only one in the village permitted to sail and fish in the bay when all else feared it for the devils who lurked beneath …
If he left, who would take his position? Who would dare once they knew the truth? Until he had a replacement sought out Cloud knew putting such plans into place would be pointless. He had a few people in mind, the blacksmith’s son wasn’t keen on blacksmithing, perhaps he could ask him if he’d like to apprentice in other work? Or the Elders could select a worthy apprentice … Either way, Cloud wasn’t ready to announce it until plans were in place.
“I need to arrange some things first, and I want Tifa to be less mad at me. I can’t say more, sorry,” Cloud sighed.
Aerith frowned at him, “All these secrets are annoying, you know.”
He agreed with a groan, “Just a few more weeks. I’ll know my answer in a few more weeks.”
“You’d better. It’s only a matter of time before someone in the inn finds them.”
“Captain Hewley’s ship won’t be in port until the start of winter,” Cloud objects, looking up at the summertime sky, “Then they sail in the new year, that’s months. I’ve got time.”
“And the secrets?”
He’s silent for a while. “I’m not sure. I hope I can tell you then too.”
“Well … you’ll tell us if you need help at least, right?” she asks after a silence of her own. “Tifa isn’t the only one worried, you know.”
“I know …” Cloud glances at Aerith, glad to have someone so steady concerned about him, not that she could really help with matters involving the Mer or the Elders. Aerith was always so blunt and direct, unafraid of getting her hands dirty or breaking social customs to call someone out who deserved it. He wished she had less courage at times, as she had knowingly walked onto a dangerous beach just to sass him.
Then there was Tifa. Tifa worried about him too, he knew, and she was not subtle about it. She was kind and open, and her sad eyes whenever he came home made Cloud feel the guilt of their argument all over again. It was all his fault. He was a wreck in the days following Squall’s song, shaken by the level of control they could seize at any moment … and he’d taken that stress out on Tifa when she’d been trying to comfort him.
He’d apologised the very next day, and Tifa had accepted, but she still watched him. Still waited for answers, still worried. Cloud could not fix that.
He couldn’t tell her what was going on, why he was so scared, why he kept his secrets … Tifa would want to help, to stand with him, and she’d put herself in danger. The thought of Squall getting his clawed hands on Tifa made Cloud feel sick.
No, it was better this way, even if it pushed Tifa away.
True to his word, even with the promise of time, Cloud does think about what the Commission means to him and his future.
It would be a big change. He’d leave this village behind, possibly forever, for a life on the seas as part of the King’s Navy.
Cloud knew he’d be leaving Cid down one worker, and the old man might be bitter about having to hire new help - Cloud got room and meals as the Inn was his home, but a new helper may demand a wage not room and board. Not to mention Cloud would leave Aerith and Tifa behind as well for months on end, if not forever. He’d leave all he had ever known.
Oh the other hand, he’d have Zack with him. His childhood friend who had remembered him, and found him a commission, probably by running his mouth about Cloud’s non-existent skills. Cloud would be in for a lot of work to live up to his friend’s affectionate boasts. He’d serve on the same ship, and it would give him a proper wage, a career, a reputation he could use to build a life …
He’d be away from the Mer and their power, away from their deals, away from this bay …
Cloud wanted that. Ever since he realised how dangerous the Mer really were, how much stronger his deal had made them; even with their promise not to show themselves in the bay while the sun was up, even though the village feared the water too much to go near; Cloud had wanted out.
With that in mind, he went to the Elders, and let them see his commission signed by Captain Hewley’s own hand.
A meeting was called.
His commission was met with looks of worry and concern. They tried to dissuade him, but Cloud held firm. He wanted the option of choosing his own life, he should not be expected to hold sole responsibility for an entire village for his entire lifespan.
Besides, they knew Zack would not let him refuse, and unless they wanted to tell him and Captain Hewley about why Cloud was tied to this place …
The warning, almost a threat, was a merciless one. Sailors may know of the Mer, but superstition was frowned upon in the Navy, they saw themselves as above it and gave it little consideration. Captain Hewley would likely not bow down to such an excuse. Cloud had the commission, and Hewley had signed it himself and was obligated to check in with Cloud for an answer. Zack would insist too, even if he was a bit more aware of the devils than a traditional Navy officer, he’d not let that stop him from taking Cloud and his family away if Cloud explained himself.
Cloud let that warning linger.
It was a threat as still and cold as the sea air. Cloud imagined Squall’s soft laughter in his mind, along with that haunting whisper of a song, praising him for his ruthlessness, for holding a deal above their heads that they could not refuse.
Cloud shook away that voice, that was not why he was here.
He continued, offering an olive branch - something Squall would never do. He wanted to follow Zack into the Navy, but not at the cost of leaving the village without a replacement. He offered to train someone new, a new fisherman who could step in when Cloud could not, and eventually take over for him.
“The Mer are inhuman,” cautioned an old woman who had not said a word all evening. “Their deals are important to them, and they do not handle treachery well …”
“This is not treachery,” Cloud objected. “This is planning for the future. Suppose I fall ill in the winter months, or suffer an early death, what then? Sailing even in our bay is dangerous, and there is no one who can step up to appease the Mer and keep the fish going in my absence.”
She shook her head, while the other Elders murmured in concern at the scenario Cloud proposed, suddenly aware of the danger of resting all their hopes on a single person.
“A replacement for a day would be the same as a replacement for a career. So long as they get what they are owed, the rest doesn’t matter,” Cloud insisted, using Squall’s words and remembering his smile. “That’s all they want.”
It was a long debate, the Elders arguing back and forth. Drinks were drunk, tempers flared … In the end, Cloud had won enough support for the Elders to consider an apprentice. He was well within his right to accept the commission, and they would be hard-pressed to prove the existence of the Mer if Captain Hewley demanded proof.
They turned their thoughts to whom could be trusted with the responsibility, with the secrecy. Who is old enough to bear the weight.
“This is foolishness …” whispered the old woman, her back bowed in regret.
“Peace, old friend, fish is fish - no matter from what hand. The devils will eat, we will make sure of that, they will have no need to raise their ire with us.”
The old woman shook her head again, knowing she was outnumbered. “Fools … it is not our bargain, it is theirs … who are you to sit here and hash new terms on their behalf? To say what is acceptable and what is not? It was not us who struck the deal, it was the boy ,” she spat at Cloud’s feet.
He flinched.
“The Village struck no deal with them, the Village demanded no terms. It was you, and you alone. We have no responsibility to uphold what you have brought upon yourself, Strife. It is your responsibility and yours alone for anchoring yourself to this fate. Mark my words. Flee this place and you’ll doom us all!”
Cloud considers how to announce the news to his family. He lays in his boat, floating the middle of the bay for a bit of peace. He’s hounded at night by unreal dreams, and by day he makes awkward conversation with Tifa and Aerith, obey’s Cid’s gruff orders to upkeep the inn, and avoids the Elders who still disagree with his choice to consider the commission - even though they agreed to find him an apprentice, a replacement.
It’s so noisy on land, but here there is a bit of calm here in this bay under a blazing sun. The Mer will not approach him, and no one would dare take to the water as brazenly as he does.
Cloud reads Zack’s letter again, slowly. He had enough education to work through the letters and sound out some words, but Zack wrote a hell of a lot when he did write- it was almost a novel. Cloud fondly leafed through the pages, letting the rocking of the boat sooth his nerves.
Efforts to find a replacement were moving at a snail’s pace, likely out of spite, but he had time. One day he would be far from here, enjoying the sun on a bigger ship.
He peacefully sinks into the bottom of the dinghy, breathing in and out as if he was about to fall asleep … the current swayed, taking him on a lazy path through the water, slowly, always so slowly …
“Hail Cloud.”
Cloud yelped and sat up from the bottom of the dingy, the old creaker swayed unevenly as he flailed.
A pair of strong arms pulled the side of the boat, and the swaying eased.
Cloud glared at the Mer who tread water near the bow. “My Cloud, it is rare for you to be so deep in your thoughts to have not noticed me.” He moved to rest his arms on the side with a coy smile. “Rarer still to have you sit in your raft and ignore the land, what has your thoughts?”
“The sun is up, you should not be in the bay-” Cloud began, fear and fury in his voice, but then he paused … and looked up, suspecting something. “Oh, of course …” he sighed.
His boat had drifted out to the edge of the bay, and now floated calmly by the rocky outcrop where the Mer collected their fish. They were, technically, outside the bay.
He squints at the Mer suspiciously, “Did you pull me out here?”
Squall rears back, insulted, “ That would go against the deal we struck, oh-fisherman-mine.”
Cloud narrows his eyes, “Did you sing me out?”
“Take your oars and row back to your precious land if it suits you,” Squall nonchalantly mutters, running a hand through his long hair and pulling it over his shoulder so it sat more comfortably. “But me thinks you would not be upon the sea if the land was preferable at this moment.”
“I wanted to be alone,” Cloud sighed, rustling his papers as Squall pulled his body around the sides of the boat until he could peer over Cloud’s shoulder.
“Alone to read?” Squall asked, intrigued. He leans in insistently, until Cloud is forced to show him or risk the boat dipping below the waterline. Squall, to his relief, does not touch them, his eyes only drift back and forth over Zack’s exuberant handwriting. “And what is this? The promise of adventure? Sailing together upon the high seas?”
Cloud blinked. ‘Squall can read?’
With that revelation he held the letter a little closer to himself, it was Zack’s letter. He’d left the official commission from Captain Hewley in his room.
“You can read?”
“I can.” Squall didn't elaborate, he rested his head on his arms again, “Who promised you such a future?”
Grunting, Cloud settled back into his seat and put one hand upon the oars, better to keep one close just in case he needed to get back to the bay quickly. “An old friend. He went to join the King’s Navy five years ago, we always dreamed of going out to sea together.”
He tried not to think of the tearful night of near betrayal he’d felt when Zack had accepted his job without Cloud. The older boy had placated him with promises of returning when Cloud was of age. It had been five years since and Cloud had almost come to believe that the offer would never come.
“How goes his promise?” Squall wonders, tapping the boat with his claws idly. “Two-legs who leave for other shores can be so faithless to those they leave behind.”
Stiffening, Cloud retorts; “I have a commission at home.”
“A commission!” Squall exclaims, a note of awe in his voice. “What a fine thing, my fisherman, congratulations are in order!” Squall’s tail hit the water, sending spray up all around them.
Cloud subtly moved away from him, but felt a rush of heat in his cheeks anyway at the bold exclamations. As annoyed as he is that Squall is the first one he told, out of a provocation of all things, he cannot deny the praise is nice. Squall never held back with his emotions so the joy, the splashes of celebration, the happy clicks that made Cloud’s lips turn up at the corners … it was a little infectious, his excitement.
“Thanks.”
Squall clicked and whistled a little in his own language, still smiling, “How lucky you are to have such a loyal friend. So seldom can we count on such things.”
“Yeah, Zack’s special. Loyal to a fault.”
“A quality you share with him. I would acknowledge the incredible foresight and fortune of the man who seeks to hire you; but alas you have given your word to me … so it remains my good fortune rather than his.”
Cloud blinked, “Wait … what?”
The Mer smirks, his eyes twinkling, “Why our deal, my dear Cloud. You are a man of your word and you would not abandon your deal.”
An uncomfortable noose tightened around Cloud’s chest. “Well, obviously I’m not going to leave you without what you’re owed. We need the safety of the bay as much as you need food,” Cloud watched Squall’s face, warily. “But … I’m not going to be here forever, right? You live such long lives, and things change.”
Squall’s smile grew sharp even as a gentle hum rose from his chest. “Ah, an entertaining jest, where else would I find a man who would honour his word such as you? I would not trust another, not as I trust you …”
Cloud leaned forward, thoughtlessly, “There will be others …”
Squall did not answer, he ran a hand across Cloud’s cheek as the human found himself swaying even closer to him. He was close enough to breathe the same air, and those silvery eyes were truly endless in their depth … his claws combed through Cloud’s hair and caught in a tangle-
The slight pain snapped Cloud back to his senses, he threw himself to the far side of the dingy. He’d been close enough to see the pupils of the Mer widen beneath those full lashes! He gulped as he recalled the hungry look swimming below the surface.
“Stop that! Using your voice when you don’t get your way is so pathetic of you, you know you can’t stop me from leaving if I want, and I won’t let you trick me into staying either.”
Silence followed Cloud’s words.
Cloud looked back, curious at the lack of retort.
Squall was gone.
Cloud slowly sat up. The waves lapped at the boat, the seagulls cawed in the distance … Squall was nowhere to be seen. Suspicious, Cloud glanced feverishly to and fro, “Squall?”
Laughter was his answer.
“I trap you here? No, no, my fisherman, not I. I have no need to, you have done that to yourself, you devoted yourself to me, to us Naiads, to your village …”
“Not once did we say that it was solely my responsibility to bring you your fish,” Cloud argued.
“Your words were ‘I’ and ‘you’, do you not recall?” Squall laughed again, cruel delight in every syllable: “ On fishing days I will bring you your fish here to this rock - half my catch, or at least one full basket, once a week. In exchange you will not only let the bay be safe for me on fishing days, but all days and for all humans. ”
“Were these not your words?” purred Squall, still circling Cloud’s shelter.
Cloud tried to breathe, but the noose around his chest had tightened and he sat there, frozen. Those were his words. They were thoughtlessly given at the time to increase the yield and gain of an even older offer, one by Squall: “Shall we say: two thirds of the fish caught one day every two weeks.”
Oh God … Cloud paled, feeling faint. He suddenly understood why Squall had laughed so hard on the day that Cloud returned with his new bargain, one he was so sure would solve the problems of the village.
“The Village struck no deal with them, the Village demanded no terms. It was you, and you alone.”
That new bargain had included ‘I’ and Squall, it seemed, was going to take that literally as a promise from Cloud and Cloud alone.
“Surely such a role as mine can be replaced?” he said quickly, reaching for the arguments that had swayed the Elders. “If I had become sick these last months you either would have gone without or accepted from another? Surely, the fish from any other man’s catch would have tasted the same as mine.”
Squall, amused, ran a clawed hand along the hull, it was a grating sound that made Cloud flinch. “Sweet Cloud, you speak of two different things and call them the same. Human frailty I could have forgiven, for it would have not been of your own volition that you failed your promise. You would have returned to me as soon as your vitality returned. However …”
Suddenly Squall splashed the water into the boat, across Cloud’s face, and across his letter, ruining the paper and making him cry out in dismay.
“No!”
“But this, what you hold in your hand, is not a misfortune!” the Mer growled in anger, his deep voice rumbling like thunder. “No … this would be a choice, and that would break your deal to me!”
Cloud flattened the paper on the dry end of the dinghy and leaned away from it, hoping to keep Squall unaware of his attempt to salvage it. He turned to the water to keep Squall talking.
“Please, listen, you talk of ambition and of adventures with longing, you said so yourself that a commission is a fine thing; and I have one! If someone else can feed you as well as I, why should I not pursue an aspiration, an adventure of my own? I would make sure that someone capable would take my place, you would not miss anything. Can we not be reasonable?”
“Oh but I would miss. I would miss my loyal fisherman dearly …” Squall whispered, mournfully. “I wonder why my fisherman would want to leave, to abandon the likes of me, a true wonder of the sea, for hard unrewarding labour to line another man’s pockets with gold … all the while the sun and the salt of the sea beat you down and bleach dry your spirit?”
He laughs, the fast moving minnows of his mood switching directions again. The laugh was a cruel one, an angry and proud one, like a furious bark from a beast. “Mine clan once hunted and served among men you aspire to be.! Their greed and bitterness made for fine gold for our collection. I bargained and parlayed with dozens over many decades. Each and every one of them were denied the dreams their masters, their captains, the commissions, promised them: wealth, civility, respect. So denied were they that they paid for their dreams with blood. They are as tough as the sails they hoist, most certainly, but as colourless on the inside as them also.”
Cloud listened, spellbound as usual by Squall’s passionate stories. His tales were like his songs, in a way, they held a power that he could not tear his attention from.
In the silence that followed Cloud looked at the drying letter, Zack wasn’t one of those people. It was possible, it had to be …
“It would be a shame for you to sell them your dreams,” Squall continued, his anger gone and replaced with a murmur that Cloud knew would haunt his dreams later.
Cloud scowled, “Oh look around you, Mer. This place is reviving, sure, but it’s no place for dreams either. All our young men head far afield for a better life, and the Elders know there is little here to complete with an offer like that. There’s nothing for me here.”
“You wound me, my fisherman,” Squall cried with mock sadness. “You would trade this partnership for servitude, to those far less thankful than I.”
Cloud scoffs at that, Squall had a funny way of showing gratitude.
“Besides, I would say that there is something here for you, something you can only find right here.”
“Beyond adventure and a chance to make something of myself?” Cloud challenges, shaking his head. “Pull the other leg …” he mutters.
Squall laughs.
“Oh yes, us Naiads know the desires and hearts of men. How else would we know whom to strike a bargain with? We hear it, sometimes we see it too, the deepest yearnings of a soul from those who would do anything, even work with the likes of us, to get it.” Squall’s voice moved closer, “We heed the desires of greed and blood, of longing and lust. For those we regard favourably we make an offer, strike a bargain, seal a deal.”
“I see your longing, a quiet question, but you carry it within yourself like a scar.” Squall whispers in his ear, “It is something adventure and the high seas could cover, perhaps, but they will never heal, but …”
He moves closer, so close Cloud can feel the slight chill of his breath and cheek beside his own.
“You are most fortunate, my Cloud. I regard you most highly and it is a desire that only I have the power to grant you.”
Cloud sat frozen as the Mer’s words washed around him like the surf upon the beach, his voice and words were as hypnotic as ever even without a song. He should have interrupted long before this softly crooned spell.
“You … you’re bluffing.”
“Am I?”
What could he want that only Squall could give, to what question? Cloud’s thoughts raced; freedom from the agreement? The answer of what Squall would do upon his leaving the village? The chance to hear his voice again?
He fights a blush as a haunting dream resurfaces, one he denied ever having, one with Squall’s face that made him wake with twisted sheets and sweat. That song … damn that song. He had heard it only once, and it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, and all he had were the echoes of it in his mind … a pale imitation. But his mind made up the poor sound with other things that brough shivers to his flesh and leaps to his heart …
He trembles, curious and ashamed. “What?”
“I can name your father’s killer.”
Cloud jerked like an arrow had struck his heart. His breath caught in his throat as Squall’s words pierced an old wound that never healed. That old pain was background noise, even to him, but Squall had pulled it to centre stage and tore it open.
Raw again he turns to Squall, but Squall is gone. “What? My .. my father …”
“I can give you this, the name and the fate of the one who slaughtered your kin,” promises Squall. Cloud never caught a glimpse of him long enough to read his face and body language; not that he trusted he had a good grasp on reading the moods of an inhuman-creature. “That question rests heavily on your heart, I know it, I hear its call - so soft it is, buried deep below like the anchors of your ships … but never silent.”
Cloud swallows. The faded, patchy memory of his father being swept out to sea on a red tide full of demons, full of bloodthirsty Mers - to know the name and fate of the individual who did it. Was he below them now, sitting fat on the hard work of the son of his last human kill? Did he flee out into the world? Was he sitting beside him right now?
“You could tell me?”
“Yes.”
Cloud hesitated, “I could walk away.”
“You could.”
“The commission would leave me no time to think about it …”
“Yes, and no time to dream …” Squall circles the boat like a shark, “but there is no answer out there to your past pain, only here.”
“And knowing that, knowing what you would tell me, that would make me feel … better?” Cloud whispers.
Squall laughs, “Better? No. It will make bleed again an old, twisted scar, and you will feel it in agonising clarity, and be left in despair. But it will silence that longing in you that otherwise will linger in your chest until you rest inside the earth …”
Honest of Squall, brutally honest. Cloud almost felt appreciative. He’d known his father died, but he never expected to know the details past the vague implication of other’s speculations. He’d accepted it as best he could as he grew …
“Was it you?”
“No.”
Mers can’t lie.
Cloud his shoulders lost some of their tension. It was not Squall. Though he had been there that day, and he had killed that day. Maybe not his father, but perhaps a neighbour, a friend, he’d likely never tell anyone else, care about anyone else enough to offer this. Cloud felt nauseous, his heart pounding as the knowledge he sought dangled just within reach.
“Alright. Tell me.”
Squall is silent for a whole minute. Cloud grips the sides of the dinghy in trepidation.
“Oh … for a price.”
“Of Course!” Cloud sneers, whipping his head around, trying to pinpoint Squall’s position. “You lying piece of shit. I will not promise to give up the commission and stay here till the end of my days! Not even for that.”
Squall clicked and whistled with sharp amusement, or was it anger? “My fisherman, I have no need to do such a thing.”
Oh right, he still thought that Cloud was bound here. Cloud grimaced. “That’s not …”
“Besides,” he appears at last, on the far side of the boat from Cloud, treading water with a strong tail and powerful abs as the water all around him sparkles from the iridescence of his scales. “My price is not so steep, and in many ways it is another gift to you; another wish. See how generous I am!”
Cloud, suspicious, crossed his arms, “You’re mocking me. You … you saw, somehow, something I want and now you’re taunting me. I should have known, you never treat anything seriously when it comes to me, all I am is a joke to you.”
The Mer leans on the bow of the dinghy, his smirk fading into something serious and contemplative. He holds himself and the boat steady, and holds Cloud’s gaze with an inhuman intensity. His voice rings with a conviction that fills Cloud’s stomach with butterflies: “You are my dear fisherman, my Cloud. You give me and mine life, and strength, and freedom from the violence of the surface world. You do not weigh lightly in mine thoughts.”
“Then why do you mock me so?” Cloud hissed.
“For your attention.”
At first, Cloud thinks this is another joke, but Squall’s face remains stoic and intense. “W-what?”
“For your attention,” Squall repeated, drifting a little closer. “I crave it; your eyes on me, your thoughts of me, your attention on me. It matters not in what form it takes; anger, joy, or curiosity; but I loath your apathy.”
Sweat rolled down Cloud’s neck, and his heart skipped a beat, both to his shame. To be in demand of such a creature was terrifying, flattering, imprisoning. He was just a boy from a village, trying to become his own man, nothing special. Yet here was a being of myths and legends, who could strike fear into the hearts of men, wanting something from him, Him.
It terrified him. It confused him. His only response was tears. The heightened emotions of this talk finally got to him, probably through the emotional wound that Squall had pierced.
“That’s … that’s so messed up,” he croaks and buries his head in his hands. The peace of this morning was long, long forgotten. “You have it, damn you, you already have my attention …”
“I know,” Squall murmured, an arm’s length away. He stared at Cloud like no human would dare to, with unapologetic intensity and engrossment. “I will leave you soon, Cloud. We drift closer to the bay even as we speak, and I will not break our deal and trespass where I should not go.”
Unlike you; the silent accusation whispered in Cloud’s mind.
“But before I leave I will tell you my price for the knowledge I possess.”
Cloud doesn’t answer, he hides his face.
“My price is for you to give into another of your desires. I see it, this one you hide from, you push it down as if you could drown it when it surfaces in dreams. But I wish for you to confront it.”
Cloud gasped, but did not move and said nothing. He blushed red.
“Yes,” Squall drifted back, or rather the dinghy drifted forward into the bay and Squall remained at the edge of the waters he was forbidden to swim in. “Until next time, my dear Cloud.”
He was gone in the next instant, and Cloud sat alone, rocking in a boat that did nothing to lull his emotions from their heights.
The morning found Cloud in his boat, the hour was barely past dawn, no one in the village was awake. No one was there to talk him out of it. He knew he would get in trouble for skipping chores again and missing breakfast, but he did not care. He was consumed by Squall’s offer.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
He battled with temptation, disgust, and rationality all night. Tossing and turning, without a break. He had not dared to sleep, to tempt forth the dreams or nightmares of his father’s death or the sin of Squall’s form - or both. He rowed out to the rock at the edge of the bay and pulled his boat up onto its tiny beach to keep it safe. Despondent, exhausted, he sat on a rock close to the water and stared down at his knees.
Squall had dug his claws deep into something even Cloud had no idea he wanted, hooked him like a fish on a line. He could not escape the thought, his sleepless night spent shivering on the razor's edge of temptation; knowledge of his father’s final moments, the fate of the one who had killed him. Did it live? Would he be able to enact vengeance, would he be allowed? Had his father struck it down in his final moments, dying a hero? Was it quick?
The unknowns were too much to bear now that he knew a certain someone could lay to rest this old ghost.
He could turn away, but at the cost of keeping a burning question unanswered all his life. For Squall, petty bastard that he was, would certainly keep that knowledge from Cloud if he displeased the Mer. He could taunt him with it, with his words, or just his smiles.
He was no fool, he knew that Squall somehow made this offer to keep him from considering Zack’s letters and Captain Hewley’s commission, but he had failed in that. Cloud fully intended to leave this place, to find a way to break the bond between them, but … he could not resist the temptation … he pushed through the fear and disgust of what he would have to give, even as a traitorous part of him shivered for a different reason …
The waves lapped the edges of the beach, the early morning birds sang, and the sunlight had not risen high enough to fight the chill of morning. Even his exertions from rowing had done little to warm him, but a new shiver, a pickle of awareness and anticipation on his nape that had nothing to do with the cold, told him he was no longer alone.
“... I know you are there.”
Beautiful dawning light shimmered across the rocks and sands, Squall’s hand, clawed at the tips and with skin rough like a shark’s, covered his own. The stripes that covered his tail also covered his hands down to his blackened, clawed fingernails.
“Hail, Cloud,” murmured Squall, hauntingly beautiful. “You are here earlier than ever before.”
Cloud hung his head, unable to look Squall in the eye. He had to get to the point before he could lose his nerve. “I … I want to know.”
“I know,” he replied, amused. “You know what is owed.”
Cloud nodded.
In his dreams, those he pushed away, he had fleeting moments of embracing the Mer in a moment of passion. Locking their lips as they shared a heat that must have surely come from the depths of hell …
“Where?” he asked, wondering if it were possible to get away with a kiss to the hand or cheek. A childish part of him was hoping to salvage it, secret it away.
He had not thought much on how he would first kiss someone, though he imagined he would eventually when it was the right time to court and marry. He never expected to give his first kiss away to someone not even human …
Squall placed his hands upon the rock either side of Cloud’s hips and pulled himself up. His eyes were full and black, a ring of silver around the edges, beautiful, predatory eyes. They stared into Cloud’s own blues as an amused smile played about the Mer’s lips, “So coy, my brave, honest fisherman. It does not suit you.”
Cloud swallowed and looked away. Of course. Of course it would be a full kiss, Squall would not let him get away with anything less. His dream bubbled up in his mind, and he suppressed it harshly. “Go on then,” he hoarsely whispered.
“It is your price, your longing, your need to know.” Squall laughed softly, intimately, his breath disturbed the hair hanging over Cloud’s eyes. “Kiss me .”
Cloud looked at Squall, not that it was hard, they sat nose to nose. This handsome face had haunted his dreams - beautiful dreams while they lasted, but ones that left him paralysed with conflict when the morning came: disgust, longing, a toxic and bitter combination of craving sin.
He would blame it upon Squall’s powers, his voice, if he could. But in the dark of his mind he knew better, it was only a stronger conflict this time now the subject was not human.
Maybe Squall’s infernal humming had spurred it on, made it happen faster or more intensely, but Cloud could see that Squall would have made a handsome man had he been born human. It would be a lesser evil to admit that Cloud would rather kiss Squall had he been a Man. He’d tried to imagine Tifa in Squall’s place, then Aerith, but it was impossible. No other image affected him as strongly, no other being haunted his dreams so persistently.
However, Squall was not a Man; he had the power to see Cloud’s desires, and as an act of payment demanded he act on them. That he initiate , and manifest a part of himself he had long since shut away …
Cloud sat frozen, and Squall waited patiently, almost immobile, those strong arms caging him in place without a tremble. It was an alien patience, betraying Squall’s inhumanness again as no man could sit so still and wait through such anticipation.
Finally, gathering his courage and throwing all other emotion to one side to deal with later, Cloud brought his hands up to cup Squall’s face. Those dark eyes threatened to swallow him, they were as deep and dark, and as dangerous as the sea he hailed from. His long brown hair dripped seawater between Cloud’s fingers, his lips parted slightly and Cloud glimpsed those pearly sharp teeth and the hint of his black tongue.
Cloud closed his eyes.
Squall’s hair was rough to the touch, as was his skin, his flesh was cooler too. His high cheekbones rested prominently under the skin, sharp. He smelled of the sea. Even with his eyes closed nothing about him allowed Cloud the option of picturing someone else.
At the summer festival, when Aerith asked if the Mer kissed Cloud had said no. No Mer could kiss with teeth so sharp and appetites so bloodthirsty. Maybe this would kill him and spare him the shame and the treachery.
Unable to fight a last second shiver, Cloud hesitated an inch from Squall’s mouth, lips parted … then he touched their lips.
Squall’s lips were smoother than his skin but still strangely textured. Cloud pulled back slightly, then leaned in for a firmer press. Squall’s hand cupped Cloud’s head in turn and urged him to change his angle, he moved his mouth against Cloud’s and took what Cloud had offered. Those claws combed through his gold locks and stroked his cheek like a lover, a soft noise of appreciation buzzing from Squall’s lips and into Cloud.
That slight noise poured into him like a hot ale and an internal heat ignited.
Cloud pressed closer, his hands clutched at the Mer’s back as he kissed him. Squall ran his fingers through his soft, dry hair, his dark tongue flicking out and urging Cloud’s lips to part. They did and Cloud was consumed.
Somehow, they ended with Squall kissing atop Cloud, leaning his bulk upon him, heavy tail between Coud’s legs, Squall embracing him with his strong arms. The Mer was breathing as fast as Cloud was, he felt the puffs of breath as Squall nuzzled his jaw and down his throat. He trailed his warmed lips along Cloud’s exposed skin, following his blush with lazy appreciation, like a shark savouring the blood of a kill.
Cloud laid on his back upon the sandy beach. He stared at Squall, their eyes meeting as they lay intertwined, the tips of their noses brushing. He was so beautiful …
‘What did he do to me?’ Cloud looked away.
He pushed at the larger, stronger body, and Squall rolled off of him obediently. He did not go far, close enough to touch - inches away. Cloud could feel the weight of his gaze, as it travelled from his head down his body, tracing the blush left in the aftermath. Down his cheeks, his neck, to his chest. He was not human, he had no shame, he did not spare Cloud a moment to regain himself.
Cloud stared sightlessly upwards, processing. He could not bear to look at Squall right now, though he was exquisitely aware of him.
“You shouldn’t have hummed while we … I-I told you not to control me like that,” he forced out at last.
“I did not.”
Cloud said nothing and did not look at Squall.
“I did not control you while you kissed me Cloud,” Squall reiterated. “Not with my voice or my arms.”
Squall couldn’t lie. Cloud turned away and covered his mouth with a shaking hand, not willing to think about what that meant. He felt so confused, like a raft in a storm, tossed to and fro with no mercy. He swallowed, feeling ill at ease with himself, and felt tears escape his eyes.
‘What have I done?’
Squall laid a gentle hand on Cloud’s hip, having shifted closer until he was pressed against Cloud’s back. Cloud, damning himself, took comfort in his presence as much as he took turmoil, and did not move.
“His name was Sephiroth.”
Cloud repeated the name hoarsely, swallowing back his emotions to listen.
“For many years he led mine-clan of Naiads. From the cold waters of the far north where the surface freezes to block out the sky, to the colourful warm seas of the south, and many in between. He was a fearsome specimen, a proud example of our race; a long black tail, hair pale as the moon, adorned in enough gold to drown ten men, and centuries old …”
“Many years ago he was the one who chose our two-leg partners, who made and struck the deals that brought us our fortune. And so he made the deal that trapped us here, him and that fool sailor. That day, upon seeing our generosity made a mockery … his anger was our anger, and he incited us, pointed at the beach where we were to unleash that fury. In our attack, Sephiroth was the Naiad who met your father first, and took him, among others, to the sea and to our vengeance.”
Cloud stared at the rock formations in front of him, his dim memories of the wave of death flashing before his eyes. He uncovered his mouth, “Did … did he suffer?”
“It was a quick death, his suffering was short,” Squall promises. “Sephiroth was a true Naiad, and did not hold back.”
That detail was one he could have lived without.
Shifting to keep warm in the cool morning, against a cool body, he prompted Squall to continue: “You said ‘Was’?”
Squall hummed, thoughtfully, Cloud forgets to tense. “He is dead. I slaughtered him.”
“How? Why?”
For a moment Squall clicked in his own tongue, reliving old emotions. “When we realised our fate, that our unfulfilled deal had trapped us and would starve us, we turned our bitterness upon him with tooth and claw. He led us to our doom, his short sighted anger killed the foolish sailor. He had allies amongst our clan, and he was strong in himself, but our anger … oh our anger that day,” he growled lowly, Cloud felt it through his back.
“He killed six of our number alone, turned our waters dark with our blood. We gutted his allies, swarmed in the still waters until the surface was rough from our battle. I fought him, faced Sephiroth with blooded teeth and claws, it was he who gave me my scar, but I tore out his heart.”
It was a tale of animalistic savagery, a growl lurked behind each word, Cloud felt each one. His own breathing and heart increased to match the tension in the Mer, unthinking, he also bared his teeth.
“I left him a ravaged carcass. I cast his husk to the bottom of the bay to rot; him and his loyal followers, and took the best of his gold as mine. I won the leadership and loyalty of mine-clan … a clan of dying Naiads. Until you.”
He stopped talking, and Cloud closed his eyes. He felt tired, and raw all over; frayed nerves, exhausted from the sleepless night, the old pain, the awe, the kiss … it was all too much.
“Do you expect me to see you as my avenger? You killed the Mer who killed my father, and you’re telling me now to make me feel grateful to you? To make me stay because I owe you?” he asked softly, bitterly.
“I did not do it to avenge you,” Squall replied silkily. “I killed Sephiroth because I wanted to kill him. Just as he killed because he wanted to kill. It was misfortune that your father met Sephiroth’s claws first …”
Cloud covered his eyes. He needed to think. The sound of the waves and the seagulls would have normally calmed his mind, but there was no calm to be found today. He breathed unevenly, his breath hitching now and then as he wallowed in thoughts of a father gone too soon, and the relief that his killer was dead.
The Mer sighed against Cloud’s neck, “I told you, to learn of this would be agony, and would bring you despair.”
He did. It was true. Reliving it hurt, but Cloud felt a fission of tension vanish with the closure, buried deep under the intense emotions; again, just as Squall promised. He knew now and could stop wondering about his father’s fate … finally, he knew the end. He knew that his work feeding the Mer was not rewarding his father’s murderer. It brought a sense of finality to something that had always ended with an unknown.
“I … I wanted to know … thanks for telling me.”
Squall cooed and raised a hand carefully to Cloud’s face, his clawed fingertips gently wiped away a couple tears. He seemed as fascinated as he was soft. Cloud did not have the will to stop him.
“My poor fisherman,” Squall sighs, not quite enough pity in his voice. “All this pain you have held inside all these years.”
There was nowhere else for it to go, he told Squall as much. “He was my father. I’ll always carry a part of him with me, and that part will always hurt that he is not here …”
Squall hummed, “Tis a strange thing to me.”
“You do not mourn your dead, then?” Cloud mocked.
“We mourn,” Squall countered, “We wail and scream until there is no pain left, we empty our hearts all at once, with all the passion our kin deserved. Ah, but it happens so rarely to those as long lived as we.”
“Then you couldn’t understand.” Of course he couldn’t, he wasn’t human.
Exactly on cue Squall clicked in annoyance briefly, expressing as he had on other occasions the annoyance of not comprehending Cloud’s humanisms.
Then he squeezed Cloud’s hip. “I think I understand this; you are honest and brave and true, a man of his word, alive, carrying his community, unwavering in the face of the unknown … why any father would be proud, as I understand it …”
Cloud nodded dumbly, Squall’s usual flattery feeling terribly wistful as he narrated what any father would wish to see in his son. Maybe he would be proud, maybe he wouldn’t, he was still gone and Cloud would never know. He sobbed again.
Squall clicked gently, removing yet more tears. “Oh this pain in your heart … allow me to comfort you.”
“How?” Cloud sniffed.
Squall paused, he might have smiled against Cloud’s back. He was never sure. He embraced Cloud as they lay together, improperly, dangerously close. His strong arms held him captive as much as he held Cloud together. Squall parted his lips by Cloud’s ear and sang.
Out came his pain, Squall’s wordless words calling it from deep in his chest and out, out, out into the harsh light of dawn. He left Cloud no choice: he clung tight to the Mer, the only stable thing in this maelstrom of anguish, and wailed!
(His scream was the perfect harmony to Squall’s voice.)
He woke later, to the concerned eyes and calls of villagers who leaned over the beached little dinghy. He was curled at the bottom of it, sleeping heavily in damp clothes.
He was roused with difficulty, swaying to the lingering whispers of a most beautiful and terrible power. He swooned when he stood, every limb impossibly heavy. His neighbours caught him, supported him and walked with him up the hill to the cliffs where his home was.
Cloud was barely awake for any of this, only vaguely aware of Cid’s gruff voice and rough hands, of Tifa’s gentle touch, or Aerith’s worried demands, or of the villagers telling Cid how Cloud had been found …
Cid, pale as a ghost, sent Cloud up to his room. His mentor felt so insubstantial despite his orders.
Still, Cloud obeyed and fell toward his bed fully dressed. The fall felt infinite, and when he touched the mattress he was gone again, having fallen back into the power of Squall’s lullaby.
That beautiful voice, it was within him now- Squall poured it like a venom from his lips into Cloud’s mind, the song had not once faltered in his walk home, swimming in his veins, echoing in his ears, beating in his chest. He felt so distant, so safe, so powerless. This terrible power that made men smile as they walked into the sea, as they fell on their swords, as they fell into the depths…
Cloud fell.
He fell back into Squall’s welcoming arms … Squall held him gently, murmuring that abyssal song that made Cloud weep every stubborn tear from his heart, and brought him rest. He could only tremble in the Mer’s embrace, unsure in this maddening bliss if the Mer was here in his bed or if he was still out there on the sands in the creature's embrace.
Like his kiss, Squall touched every vulnerable corner of Cloud’s emotions and brought them to the surface. It was like the Mer devoured them. He rendered the waves of sorrow and loss and grief to pieces like the fish Cloud fed him. In their place he left only the peace, the restfulness, the emptiness behind … Cloud’s weeping ebbed and he swooned helplessly into the Mer’s arms as they sank into the abyss of sleep together …
Cloud dreamt of the sea. He dreamt of rolling waves and swelling sounds, the crash of storms and the tickle of raising bubbles. He dreamt of deadly claws caressing his flesh, slicing muscle and drawing blood. It didn’t hurt. Those pearly white teeth sank into his neck, grating on his bones, the touch but a caress to his senses. Rough scales scraped at his skin, tearing it free from his flesh, and leaving him quivering.
He dreamt of the tides and their power, the destruction, the rhythm of life of the sea itself. He saw himself, felt himself, unravelling, torn apart by something stronger, older, more than himself. He dreamt of a body intertwined with his own, rocking into him, breathing water, life, into his lips until he breathed no more.
He dreamed of gold, shimmering gold coins, necklaces, the hair on his head, the rings on his fingers, silver eyes, silver on the waves as the waves drove them down, down into the dark of the bay.
He dreamed of bones scattered on the ocean floor, and a beating heart offered to him from a rotting corpse. He bit into the offering and tasted eternity …
Notes:
Oh whatever is Cloud to do?
Anon_us on Chapter 1 Fri 23 Sep 2022 11:50AM UTC
Comment Actions
Fififire on Chapter 1 Wed 05 Oct 2022 08:52PM UTC
Comment Actions
LetoaSai on Chapter 2 Mon 30 Jun 2025 12:26AM UTC
Comment Actions
SoulsGenesis on Chapter 3 Mon 30 Jun 2025 02:18AM UTC
Comment Actions
LetoaSai on Chapter 3 Mon 30 Jun 2025 03:11AM UTC
Comment Actions
Fififire on Chapter 3 Tue 01 Jul 2025 12:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
rablacksun on Chapter 3 Tue 01 Jul 2025 07:08AM UTC
Comment Actions